


The Consequences of Dreaming

by NoPondInTheForest



Series: Consequences [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, F/M, Reunion, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 123,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoPondInTheForest/pseuds/NoPondInTheForest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years have passed since the Doctor walked away, leaving the woman he loved behind with his double. Now, traveling with the Ponds, his broken hearts are an old secret, hidden away under the guise of the manic, dynamic alien. </p>
<p>So when a mysterious threat arises, compelling him to return to Pete's World, it means risking everything- including his hearts, his secrets, and his sanity. But no is never an option when Rose needs his help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is set during series seven, when Amy and Rory are no longer traveling with the Doctor with any regularity. I've tried my best to keep it canon-compliant.

**The Consequences of Dreaming**

**Prologue**

_"The heart of another is a dark forest, always, no matter how close it has been to one's own." -Willa Cather_

********

The laptop's screen had long since grown dark as it sat in front of her on the cluttered desk, but Amy had yet to notice this. 

This was probably because really, Amy should be in bed; she'd been tired for hours already, but she had dreadfully neglected her writing this week and sleep was an easy thing to sacrifice. But when over two hours of intense focus had yielded only one unhappy sentence, she'd left it for a bit, just to make herself a cup of tea- with the hope that it might help her wrestle some of her distracted thoughts into actual words. 

It had, bless it, but she wasn't typing. Instead, she was contemplating life, chin in hand, letting her mind wander about in the most random places, which any good sleep-deprived, caffeine-enhanced mind is wont to do. 

Since nothing in her life had ever been as random as the Doctor, it was inevitable that her mind would end up fixating on him; how even after everything she'd seen with him, everything she'd done, there was still the one thing she had never been able to get used to. 

The sheer _unpredictability_ of it all. 

Amy was a girl who had always liked to know what to expect, had always needed to be in control, and she was old enough now to realize that if traveling through time and space in a box couldn't change her- well, nothing ever would. Rory had certainly never dared try. But since the Doctor enjoyed predictability only slightly more than he enjoyed kissing Daleks, an attempt to be in control when he was involved would guarantee only one thing- frustration. His preferred way had all the schedule of a whirling hurricane, and if he happened upon any well-laid plans or preconceived ideas the first thing he'd do is loosen all their bolts, just for the fun of watching them fly apart.

Amy had never appreciated that, and stubbornly continued to insist he have a rhythm to his madness.

Well, when two powerful opposing forces were as close as they were, there were bound to be a few explosions, sometimes ignited by the _stupidest_ small things.

 

Like perks.

 

When Amy Pond first agreed to travel with the Doctor in his TARDIS, she was fully expecting the adventures, the aliens, and even the time-travel. Of course she was. After all, she had seen evidence of all of this before she ever stepped foot onto his ship. Had believed in some of it for years, even. Since she was seven.

But all of her prior knowledge of spaceships had come from sci-fi movies like _Star Wars;_ they were supposed to be cold, austere machines, all design effort centered around the technology needed to travel through the great wide beyond, and next to none given to something as insignificant as the creature comforts of her passengers. 

Of course, no fictional spaceship she'd heard of was ever a bigger-on-the-inside box either, so Amy was forced to begin changing all of her assumptions spaceship-ward the minute she laid eyes on the TARDIS, and especially once she stepped across its worn wooden threshold. She had been stunned and impressed right off by the glassy beauty and smooth lines of the console room, but it was more than a day and another adventure later before she got a real tour out of the Doctor. And as they explored the labyrinthine corridors, with him pointing this way and that, leading her under high archways and into gorgeous, cavernous rooms, saying such unexpected things as swimming pool (no, she hadn't believed him earlier) and gardens, and library, she was quite surprised to find that the word _luxurious_ kept popping into her mind. 

A luxurious spaceship? It seemed so wrong to her, as she followed him around, quietly taking it in. Who needed all of this? Weren't deprivations part of the excitement of going on adventures; part of the way one improved and strengthened one's character? 

Well. It wasn't _too_ hard for Amy to change her mind about that as she sat, not much later, warm and sleepy and relaxed, in her en-suite's enormous sunken bathtub, happily mulling over what was sure to be the biggest perk of them all.

The Doctor had told her that while on the TARDIS, there was _no such thing as morning._

No mornings. Amy giggled and blew bubbles off her wet fingers as she tried to wrap her mind around such a concept. Morning, for her, had always been the most dreaded part of the day. Crawling out of a warm den of blankets, she'd always felt as cross as a bear coming off a long winter's hibernation. She wasn't tired, she had just always hated how it felt to leave her lovely dream-world, which existed so vividly while she was in bed, to go out into dull reality, facing a day full of things she didn't really want to do. When she was young it was school, then later in life, work or errands, with only the occasional lazy weekend to give her some relief. 

But of course, all of these boring and disagreeable parts of life would disappear now that she'd begun traveling with the Doctor, and waking on an impossible spaceship with nothing but mad escapades to look forward to- well, it would be like waking up in a fairy-tale, and surely she would act the part of the princess. 

Maybe she would even let him call her Amelia.

And she was right, in a way. It was like waking in a fairy tale, on her first morning-that-wasn't. 

Unfortunately, she ended up bearing far more of a resemblance to the story's dragon than its princess.

No one was more greatly surprised by this than Amy. She was even more surprised than the Doctor, but only because the circumstance in which he had discovered this less-than-appealing trait of his new companion had inspired in him less _surprise_ and more _abject terror._

Not that he'd been without fault in the incident. He was just so ridiculously over-eager, like a child who's been handed a new toy and then told he has to wait before playing with it. It had proved nearly impossible to hold himself back. And who could blame him? They'd just come off their second adventure together, and it had been brilliant, and she'd been brilliant too, even more so than he'd expected. But he had kept her up for over twenty-four hours, and even the Doctor knew that was longer than a human would normally go before needing rest, so theoretically he also knew that she would probably sleep longer than normal to make up for it. 

Still, that knowledge didn't prevent him from parking himself at the end of the corridor, listening hopefully for signs of life only four hours after she'd gone to bed. At six hours, he had his ear at her door, and two hours after that he was pacing the floor, wringing his hands and strongly reminding himself why it was not a good idea to go in and wake her up. (He had last traveled with Donna, after all, and the memory of what had happened when he'd pulled that trick on her was still vivid enough to prevent him.) 

It was more than ten hours before Amy felt awareness pulling at her. Her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls and she groaned and flipped over in the bed, determined to go back to sleep. Then she remembered where she was, and felt slightly cheered, but the next second realized that she hadn't intended on feeling like _this_ at all when she woke; she was going to slide eagerly and effortlessly from slumber, then from bed, with a smile and -who knows? perhaps even a song, and her disappointment on discovering that this idea now repelled her made her feel even crosser than usual. 

She slit one bleary eye open to look for the clock, her scheduling nature forcing her to justify staying in bed now that she was awake, only to have the empty bedside table remind her that 1.) there was no clock, and 2.) she'd been delighted about said clock's absence last night. Facts one and two now served only to anger her further, making a return to sleep impossible, and Amy literally kicked the blankets off her bed in frustration. 

The Doctor, of course, was completely unaware of all of this, but wouldn't have been able to follow her rather remarkable thought processes if he had been. In fact, he had begun to worry that something dreadful had happened to her, when at long last he saw the door of her bedroom crack open from where he was still prowling round at the end of the corridor. Immediately heading toward it, a wide, delighted smile stretched across his face as soon as he saw her cautiously poke her head out of the room. 

Amy noted the Doctor's appearance with dismay. He was positively radiating vibrance and energy and enthusiasm, whereas all she possessed at the moment was a head of wild ginger hair and tired, swollen eyes. Now all of these elements are mostly harmless on their own, but can be lethal when mixed, and although the Doctor was a clever fellow this was the type of chemistry lesson he'd always had a difficult time understanding. Thus, he didn't recognize the danger signs, the menacing gleam in the puffy eyes, and continued toward her recklessly.

"Amelia Pond!" he bellowed happily and she winced at his volume. "Rise and shine! Though I must say you do not look particularly shiny at the moment," he added, taking in her bedraggled appearance with a grimace, "but I'm sure old Winston won't mind. Blimey, I forgot how you humans sleep half your lives away," his tone plainly implying that he found the habit to be one of the most annoying he'd ever encountered in all of time and space. Then, as if this wasn't bad enough, her sluggish reflexes hadn't been able to prevent him from seizing her hand, then dragging her down the corridor at a truly unbelievable speed.

A empowering wave of fury belatedly crashed over her and she yanked her hand from his, causing him to finally slow down and glance back at her. The dangerous gleam in her eyes had grown to become something frightening enough to make even the Oncoming Storm completely stop in his tracks. 

A few extremely rude but cleverly worded insults to his intelligence, manhood, and clothing choices later plus a stinging slap to his bicep saw him cowering in bewilderment while she disappeared round the corner in a swirl of white nightgown.

 

*******

 

Amy smiled at the memory. More than ten years of traveling, dozens of adventures, and a wonderfully developed friendship later and he still avoided her until she'd had her second cup of tea. She'd felt badly about the whole episode later, and had apologized, and although he hadn't been upset with her he was forever wiser and warier.

It was probably for the best, although once Amy had gotten over her ridiculously high expectations about the whole _no morning_ thing she was easier to be around after she'd first woken up. Not _easy,_ mind you, but easier- because she'd discovered that she didn't need her sleepy dream-world any longer. Why would she, when her actual life was now so much darker, so much madder, and so much better? 

That was the first real perk of TARDIS travel. But nothing could top being the best friend of the Doctor, an amazingly complex man who'd saved so many lives, so many worlds. She'd had the privilege of being the one who saved him. Not just in a literal sense, although that was true too. She was a friend he could trust, he needed her, and being that for him brought her immense joy and satisfaction.

It was the sudden ache in her heart accompanying that thought which finally brought her back to reality. Oh, how she missed him. She hated it when he was so long between visits, when she couldn't help but start wondering if she'd ever see him again. Amy closed the dark laptop with a sigh and, ignoring the stiffness in her legs, got up and went to the window, pushing back the curtains. _Where was he?_ she wondered, looking up at the stars. Unpredictable man. She could never know for sure.

She made a wish anyway.

 

_"Raggedy Man, come home."_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 

If Amy hadn't wanted him, he would've been there by the dozens. The very next morning. Probably at some horrible ungodly hour, robbing her of any chance to catch up on lost sleep.

But she'd packed their suitcases before she even went to bed, and by doing so had practically guaranteed that he wouldn't show up. The bags sat out for so many days that Amy had eventually been forced to relocate them from the lounge to their bedroom, mostly because she'd run out of answers for the inevitable _"so where are you and the mister off to, then?"_

That question was always bad. Not only because it reminded her of how worried she was about her best friend, but after her struggle to respond with some believable lie, the person would usually follow up with something like _"you certainly are the travelers. Tell me about some of the other places you've visited!"_

This went on until Rory declared that the Doctor had made them just like him after all, all lies and secrets, and he wouldn't have it. The bags were banished.

Amy dragged them back downstairs the very next day, and said she just wouldn't allow anybody else in the house. And she meant it.

And she didn't, even though it got the neighbors talking. And it was worth it, once the long-awaited blue box finally materialized in their lounge, to see the joyous look in the Doctor's eyes when he opened the door and saw them standing there, waiting for him, surrounded by enough luggage to promise a long stay.

He'd finally come back, he wasn't dead, he was even smiling. Amy was profoundly relieved. 

However, none of these _very good things_ had rendered her incapable of noticing the rigid, steely tenseness of his body when she hugged him, or the overall impression of darkness lurking about his being, which had definitely not been there the last time she'd seen him. 

Amy found herself wondering what exactly he'd been up to lately.

 

Now, five days later, lying awake in her bed, she was still wondering. Five days on the TARDIS and, aside from one quick trip to 1887 to meet Louisa May Alcott, they'd done nothing but float in the Vortex. It was five days which had turned her wondering about the Doctor into outright worry. 

He'd seemed okay despite her first impressions. They'd just set down the last of their bags and he was beaming, dashing round the console as usual, declaring that their first trip would be to meet Amy's favorite author. 

"No better cure for writer's block! Who will it be, then?"

Amy didn't realize this question could have a wrong answer, but apparently it did, and it was _Agatha Christie._

The second the name exited her lips all his joyful exuberance vanished, extinguished as easily as a tenuously flickering candle flame. 

"No. Pick someone else."

She left it alone- after all, she loved _Little Women,_ so she could accept not getting her first choice with fairly good grace- and when she said as much, breezy and casual and _not at all watching him,_ his face had cleared somewhat and he'd set the coordinates gratefully. 

Meeting one of her idols had been a thrilling experience for Amy, but that was all there was to it. No danger, no aliens, nothing; the closest thing to a threat was the possibility of Amy quite overwheming Ms. Alcott. Fortunately, the spirited young author had seen a bit of herself in the girl and had borne up quite well under her relentless questioning. All in all, it was a lovely day, thoroughly enjoyable, or at least it would have been if the Doctor hadn't been so- so unbelievably _passive_ about everything. Curled up almost cat-like in the biggest armchair he could find, he politely listened to the conversation, sipped tea, and smiled fondly whenever Amy got a bit too excited. He didn't prowl, didn't snoop, didn't insult anyone's intelligence or wrongly accuse the maid of being from Traxilon 7. 

Didn't insist on being the center of attention.

And after they returned to the TARDIS, he'd disappeared into the depths of the ship, not re-surfacing until more than a day later.

Amy Pond didn't do patience well. But until earlier tonight she had been the model of self-restraint, saying nothing but noticing everything- the moodiness, the bouts of silence, his extremely odd contentment with staying on the ship, and although he was making dozens of plans, there was no follow through. Just one excuse after another. It had been obvious that something was going on with him from the moment he'd appeared in her living room, but she'd been happy to keep a close eye on him and hope that he'd either come around on his own or, as his best friend, clue her in to as to what was bothering him. 

But she also knew that he was beyond stubborn, especially when it came to asking anyone for help. She was going to have to pry it out of him. Of course, the Doctor loved her prying about as much as a cat loves a bath, even when he knew it was for his own good, but still- his extreme overreaction fell outside the realm of anything she'd been expecting. 

Five days was long enough. When Amy wandered into the library earlier that evening, with the intention of looking for a new book to take to bed, she saw the Doctor sitting there and thought it was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. Her opening had been insignificant enough, but he obviously saw what was coming and he snapped at her, sharp words cutting like teeth, severing the conversation before it even became one. And then he just up and left. 

Adding hurt, frustration, and not a small amount of irritation to her worry, Amy let him escape and went to bed. And now that she'd fully thought things through, she slept, having concluded that if the moody alien had something to hide he should have never brought _her_ back onto his ship.

 

********

 

Without even opening her eyes, Amy could tell it was still quite early. She hadn't slept well. And that was saying something, because it was nearly impossible not to sleep well in her bed on the TARDIS. There was no bed ever manufactured on Earth that could match it for comfort, and no sheets from her home planet, no matter how expensive, no matter how high the thread count, could achieve the perfection of the ones she was currently wrapped up in, all silky and cool against her warm skin. Despite the comfort she felt tired and cross. 

Stupid Time Lord. 

Amy decided resolutely that she wasn't going to think about him anymore. He could mope away his next thousand years on this ship for all she cared. So she really had was no reason to get up yet. Especially when Rory was only inches away. Rory wasn't stupid. He was wonderful. And snuggly. 

But when she lazily stretched and rolled over in the bed, hoping to curl her body warmly into a wonderful, snuggly husband -and found nothing but desolate, empty space and cold sheets for her trouble- all hope of possibly salvaging the morning was dashed. Amy blew out an irritated breath and opened her eyes. The room was already illuminated with the TARDIS' exceptionally good impression of an early morning glow. This did not make her feel better. 

"Wonder when she'll starting adding chirpy little birdsongs to complete the effect," mumbled Amy crossly as she sat up, then reluctantly slid out of bed. Rory was up, the TARDIS plainly thought Amy should be up too, so up Amy was getting. 

She wrapped herself up in her favorite old pink dressing gown, and stepped into a pair of thick slippers to protect her feet from the chill of the glass floors before exiting her room. Slowly, she padded toward the kitchen. Fortunately, the door to that room was easy to find even when one was sleepy- it was always different from the other doors- and today it was a full glass one, with a silvery metal bar running horizontally across it. 

"This is new," Amy mused as she pushed the door open and entered the warm, fragrant room.

It wasn't just the door that was new. The entire kitchen had changed since yesterday. It now resembled a diner from the 1950's era, complete with a long stainless steel bar, and spinny stools, upholstered with round red vinyl seats. There were matching red booths along both side walls, and the refrigerator was big and professional looking, stainless steel like the bar. Pictures of various film stars adorned the walls, some familiar and some not. Amy remembered that the TARDIS had been quite fond of running lots of 1950's films on the television recently. Must be a new phase.

The kitchen also contained Rory. He was standing at its far end with his back to her, fiddling with something on the countertop next to the stove. In spite of the fact that she was annoyed with him for abandoning her this morning, Amy's lips turned up in amusement. He must be having trouble with the toaster again. 

She watched him for a minute in silence, still blinking tiredly, until an enormous yawn threatened to split her head in two. Rory glanced back over his shoulder and smiled when he saw her standing there, all rumpled and sleepy. He wordlessly turned back and opened the nearest cabinet, grabbed a mug, and filled it from the kettle on the stove. As he handed the hot, aromatic beverage to his wife he was perhaps not entirely unaware that he'd just tipped the scales in his favor. The Doctor may have been a genius, but he was nowhere near as wise as Rory when it came to dealing with Amy Pond.

Amy settled down on one of the stools near him, holding the warm mug close to her face, inhaling the moist sweetness of the steam wafting from it before taking her first sip. Rory was back to trying to operate the toaster, or at least what they both assumed was the toaster. It likely was, since it was in the toaster's spot on the countertop. It was completely unfamiliar, but that was nothing new. 

The Doctor was fascinated with toasters, and never visited an alien marketplace without picking up a new one. It was a good thing too, since the latest acquisition never seemed to make it more than a few days before either being cannibalized for parts or loudly declared to be in dire need of improvement. At best these so-called improvements would render the thing completely unusable _("but Amy, have you ever seen a toaster which could pop the bread fifteen feet high? Fifteen feet, Amy!")_ and at worst it would end in a fire of some sort which the Doctor would then rush around madly to put out, but never without a kind of unholy glee in his eyes. 

Today, the appliance looked like a flat square of silvery colored metal, with no buttons or levers to speak of. Rory turned it round in his hands, checking it over again to see if he'd possibly missed something, like, oh, perhaps a place to put the bread or a way to turn it on. 

He was so incredibly patient. Amy figured her next plan of action would have been to throw the useless thing across the room, but Rory just set it down nicely and tried again, this time attempting to balance a slice of bread vertically on top of it. To their amazement, the slice held upright as if by magic and the metal base began to heat up and redden. Rory grinned in triumph and poured himself a cup of tea, joining his wife at the bar while he waited.

They sat together in companionable silence. "I'm surprised he hasn't been in here for breakfast yet," Amy finally remarked, interrupting Rory's idle thoughts. "He's usually been and gone long before I'm up."

"The Doctor?" asked Rory, confused. "Why do you think he's not been in here?"

His wife's only response was one raised eyebrow and a very pointed glance around the room. Ah. Clear, shining countertops completely devoid of crumbs, blobs of marmalade, and dried-up dribbles of tea. No random alien gadgets he'd brought in to tinker with (since he could never do anything so dull as to just _sit and eat_ ), then left behind as he invariably forgot them in the wake of something more exciting. No, the Doctor had definitely not been in here yet today. Right.

He looked back at his wife as she continued. "I hope this doesn't mean that he's still sulking. If he is, that alien and I are gonna have us a little chat. He has been acting beyond ridiculous."


	3. Chapter 2

Time Lords did not sulk, as Amy would have been quite indignantly informed (again) had the Doctor overheard her conversation with Rory. In reality though, the Doctor was, by far, the worst sulker on the ship. It could be triggered by any number of small things- including running out of foods he particularly liked, the TARDIS refusing to cooperate, and especially by necessary trips to return the Ponds' to their current timeline so they could care for their "dull domestic duties" (he did love using that alliteration, though). 

Amy knew him very well. Far better, in fact, than any of the companions he'd had in recent years, with Rose being the only possible exception. Martha had taken care of him, but never really understood him. Donna, on the other hand, _had_ , and could even get him to open up to her sometimes. He trusted Amy similarly, but she had this certain knack he couldn't quite get used to, for seeing right through all of his speeches and tactics.

Amy herself never hid anything she thought or felt, and was always first in line to tell him off when he was being especially stupid. She was the closest thing to family he'd had since the War. He adored her, respected her, loved her. 

And at the moment, he was definitely avoiding her. He didn't need to overhear anything to be aware that she'd picked up on his short-temperedness for days now and that her patience with him had run out. A confrontation was looming, and he was putting it off. 

Her latest assessment of him wasn't quite accurate, however. He wasn't sulking. His behavior actually stemmed from the fact that he hadn't been sleeping. At all. He was exhausted, but the physical tiredness was really the least of his current problem. It only affected his body, after all. 

Truth was, his real issue was that every time he dared shut his eyes these days, he was putting his heart at risk.

The Doctor hated sleeping. Always had. He was a Time Lord, of course, and the Time Lords had always despised anything that made them seem weak, vulnerable, dependent. Mortal. Not to mention the fact that it took time away from their precious higher pursuits. Over millennia, the Time Lords had modified their genes to remove the need for sleep from their bodies as much as they possibly could, but no matter how superior a species they became, no matter how brilliant, they would never be able to defeat simple biology- and as long as they were flesh and blood, biology dictated the need for at least a minimal amount of rest and nourishment.

Rebellious as always, the Doctor had never exactly subscribed to his people's way of seeing it and early in life had avoided sleep more because it was boring. Why give in to long periods of unconscious inactivity when reality was so much better? So much to do, to see, to learn! 

Then the War came, and after it came the nightmares, and he found himself longing for the days when sleep was simply boring. In fact, he craved the unconscious inactivity so he could just _not think_ for awhile. But any time he drifted off, his defenses were lowered, and all of the terrible memories- so carefully compartmentalized and locked away at all other times- were able to escape their cages and terrify him when he was vulnerable, wrenching him from sleep, exhausted and shaken.

For a long time it seemed as if this would never get better, but then- Rose came on board. The longer she was with him, the more of his thoughts she began to occupy, and he began to enjoy life again, seeing it through her eyes. In a surprisingly short amount of time the haunting images and memories of war began to give way to dreams of her; of them, a future where she was always by his side. For the first (and only) time in his life, the Doctor found sleep could be a very pleasant thing indeed.

When he lost her, the nightmares returned with a vengeance, adding to themselves screaming and white walls and words never spoken.

But the TARDIS had gotten quite adept at protecting him from these particular nightmares the last few years, and he hadn't dreaded sleeping as much. Why she wasn't helping him now he had no idea, but she had seemingly turned her back on him, having withdrawn her telepathic hand-holding no matter how much he begged.

Oh, how he'd begged, and when the ship hadn't responded he'd assumed there must be something wrong and had tried making a few repairs, which she hadn't appreciated in the slightest. And so, having finally accepted that his oldest friend was refusing to help him, he came up with his own ridiculously stubborn, somewhat toddler-esque solution. 

He just wouldn't sleep. 

 

Avoidance had always been one of his favorite defense mechanisms, and he (quite illogically) hoped that if he avoided sleeping for long enough perhaps the dream would pack its things and go away. Not his best plan ever but- he just couldn't deal with it anymore. That dream had a far worse effect on him than any nightmare about the War ever had. Waking provided no escape, but instead was when it came to life and crushed him, consumed him, and he would find it nearly impossible to get it out of his head. Lately his weary mind, when not obsessing about the dream itself, was going round and round trying to determine its cause. And hopefully its cure. 

He had yet to come up with a single theory he liked.

 

********

 

This had been going on for weeks by the time he found himself stepping out of his ship into the Ponds' living room, not really even sure how he'd gotten there. What he did know was that he was edging closer and closer to the breaking point. He felt utterly helpless, and he despised not being in control of his own body, his own _mind._ He was also exhausted, so much so that he hardly dared let himself stop moving. More than once he'd stilled and unwittingly drifted off, only to have the dream instantly reappear and rip him into mental and emotional shreds. Waking him before his body had the chance to benefit anyway.

He felt badly about how he'd been treating Amy, snapping at her and Rory over the smallest things, but he just couldn't help it. Snapping was better than screaming, which is what he really felt like doing. Maybe that's how this will all end, he thought bitterly. With him curled up in a corner somewhere, screaming till he went mad. The day was coming.

He'd had just enough energy left to take them on one trip, and now that it was done, he had absolutely no desire to leave the Vortex. If Amy hadn't been suspicious before, this would've done it, he knew. But trouble invariably followed him wherever he went, and as he was in no state to save anyone, the TARDIS was the best place for him until he figured this out. He really should take the Ponds home, but their current presence was a comfort he found himself unwilling to give up. And although Amy had been surprisingly tolerant, no doubt last night's incident meant the end of that.

He'd been sitting in the library, supposedly reading a book, but in reality was just staring at it blankly while he struggled with the increasingly powerful urge to just let himself drift away. He knew a comfortable chair in a quiet room was not the best place to accomplish this, but it seemed to be impossible to make himself get up. Held hostage by a cushy armchair. That was new. 

Over and over, the room faded away as he slipped into a drowsy warm haze, almost gone, then he'd come to and shake his head, blinking rapidly as he fought it off only to slip back seconds later. As the minutes ticked on in this fight his frustration mounted, eventually pulsing so hotly through his veins that he drew back and hurled the book across the room with all his might. 

It crashed satisfactorily against the wall with a bang like a gunshot, and came to rest wide open against the floor, pages rumpled and curled. The Doctor, fully awake now, stared after it as if wondering what had just happened, then leaned forward, elbows on knees, and rubbed his aching temples with a hand.

Poor Amy had the misfortune to walk in at this very moment.

"So...we heading to the end of the universe or something, Doctor? Never been on the TARDIS for quite this long before," she said. Her voice was oh so casual, but when his eyes flicked to hers he knew the carefully crafted question was anything but. He had no defenses left against the irrational anger that stirred in his blood.

"Last time I checked," he replied icily, looking away, "I wasn't your intergalactic tour guide. This ship is infinite, with an infinite number of things to do. If you're bored, I can take you home." He got to his feet. "Although if you do go home, I have a feeling it won't be long before you find out what boring truly is. Don't expect me back to save you from it any time soon." He stalked off, leaving a speechless Amy in his wake.

So today he was hiding, in the one place he knew Amy wouldn't come in after him. Well, he hoped not. He was in the shower. He'd been on his way to the kitchen, hungry after spending the entire night in the control room- successfully awake- but as soon as he saw the back of the familiar pink bathrobe through the glass door he'd turned on his heel and headed the opposite direction down the corridor, directly to his private quarters. This incarnation loved a good soak, anyway.

Twisting the faucet to raise the water temperature to much hotter than he normally would have, he stepped directly under the spray, hoping that the physical pain of the pounding, scalding water would prevail over the anxiety so relentlessly twisting his gut. His mind did work especially well when he was in here, and it had almost become his retreat of sorts any time he was trying to solve some complex dilemma. So far it hadn't helped with the nightmares, but all he was going for today was a solution to the Amy problem. Even though irritated companions should be the least of his concerns. After all, a sleep-deprived Time Lord was just downright dangerous.

 

********

 

Nearly an hour later, the Doctor reluctantly abandoned his favorite hiding place. He still didn't have a solution to either of his current problems, but since he was becoming rather red and wrinkly from standing under the hot water for so long he decided to be satisfied with at least having come up with where he would hide next.

He couldn't feel too proud of this, though. It was far from being a new idea.

On returning to the console room, he was happy to find it still empty and proceeded to occupy himself, as usual, with 'repairing' the TARDIS. After a brief glance at the console itself, he descended the short flight of stairs to fiddle with the complex tangle of cables underneath it for a few minutes, but this did not exactly suit his current need.

Ascending to the main level again, he decided he would be best off working on the wiring directly under the console. After removing and tossing his tweed jacket over the nearest railing, he lay on his back and slid under the console, his body now visible from only about the waist down. After he'd wriggled as far in as possible, he immediately pulled out his screwdriver and began sonicking the various wires, testing their connections, telling himself that since he really hadn't checked this in a long time it was a good thing he wasn't putting it off anymore. 

Of course this was also a strategic move, as he knew this position would enable him to hide his face quite well from any interrogators who might join him later on. And it would easily stifle any meaningful conversation.

It wasn't long before he heard Amy's familiar footsteps enter the room. And then a muffled thud, as she settled herself on the floor next to his feet. He strongly suspected that the none-too-gentle kick he felt to his ankle was not accidental.

"Did you lose something important way under there, Doctor? I told you it was a bad idea to play marbles in here."

He could just imagine her sitting there, lips pursed, watching him. Not that she could see much.

"I happen to be working on something quite essential and complicated, Amy, no need to poke fun. I should have thought to check these connections after I accidentally materialized in 41st century Drach last week. I am stupid, stupid, stupid for not thinking of it earlier!" 

She didn't reply. Maybe she couldn't really hear him. Oh, well. That had never shut him up before.

"Anyway, these wires are the initial link from the console to the Helmic regulator, and an incomplete circuit could cause the TARDIS to materialize in the wrong era. Do you have any idea what could have happened if I hadn't figured out where, or rather, when, I was as quickly as I did? Do you know what the Drachian people _eat_ in the 41st century? By that time, their native food supplies had run out and they were reduced to living off of-"

He trailed off abruptly, having turned his head to the side to look for a tiny clamp he'd dropped, and was shocked to discover the face of his red-headed companion less than an inch away from his own. No wonder she'd missed her opportunity to comment on his piloting skills. It must have been hard work for her, wedging herself under the console that quickly.

Her dark eyes met his frankly.

"Spill." 

It was not a request.

After staring at her for a bit, he nodded, and motioned for her to slide out of the tiny space. She gladly did so, and he followed her. They lay side by side on the floor, upper arms almost touching as they both looked up into the cavernous ceiling.

"I'm just tired, Amy. Not tired _of_ anything," he added, anticipating her next question before she could ask it, "tired, physically. Like how you get if I keep you out past your bedtime. Sluggish, irritable, no fun at all anymore."

His eyes held a bit of their old sparkle when they darted over to her and caught her glaring at him, offended. He smirked, having gotten the desired reaction, and she treated him to a very close up view of her pink tongue. He grinned outright at that, and looked up again before going on. "I haven't been sleeping."

He could tell she wasn't expecting this. She'd questioned him on this subject before, _"don't you ever sleep?"_ but he'd been typically evasive. Amy sat up as she digested this surprising information, and the Doctor followed suit, both of them facing each other but still sitting on the floor.

"How long has it been since you've slept, Doctor?" she asked finally. "And don't try to tell me you aren't certain, _Time_ Lord. And I want to know in _Earth_ days."

Oh yeah, she knew him.

"Fifty-four days," he admitted, after a long pause. "But before you start fussing too much," he continued, popping to his feet so he could pace around the console, "I'll tell you I've gone far longer than that without sleep before. One time I was imprisoned on Galagras Devinor and the the only way I survived was by staying awake the entire time and pinching-"

"Yes, well, fascinating as that is, Doctor, it has nothing to do with why you aren't sleeping now so stop trying to change the subject."

Amy had followed him on his trek around the console and had somehow, with a skill only she possessed, entrenched herself into his personal space. Her face was in his again, her intelligent dark eyes intently studying him. It was as if she believed that if she looked deeply enough, she could read the truth in his eyes, and not be forced to depend on his unreliable words. It always unnerved him when she did this; of course she couldn't read his mind, but sometimes he couldn't mask his emotions as well as he would've liked.

He wondered what she saw there today, when her countenance softened and she stepped back.

"Is it nightmares?" she asked, voice tinged with compassion.

He took a deep breath, blowing it out before walking over to plant himself heavily on the captain's chair. He patted the space next to him in invitation.

"Something like that, I suppose," he admitted, as she sat down. "Well, not really nightmares. More like, oh, I don't know, a premonition? A vision? It feels more like a memory, but thing is, it didn't happen. And if it was supposed to occur in my past, it didn't, so now it can't. Well, I guess it is possible to have a memory of something that never actually occurred. But then I should remember it, not just dream it." He pushed back his floppy fringe, shrugging. "Anyway. The TARDIS usually blocks this sort of thing telepathically. Don't know why she's not this time. Wish she would. I've checked all her telepathic circuitry and I can't find anything wrong with it and she won't let me look anymore. She even burned my finger yesterday," he complained, winding up this incredible ramble by poking the injured digit up to Amy's face for her inspection.

She eyed it warily before standing up with a toss of her long hair.

"I'm not going to pretend that I understood even half the nonsense that just came out of your mouth. But have you considered that perhaps the TARDIS isn't blocking these dreams, or whatever they are, because she doesn't want to? Maybe she's trying to tell you something."


	4. Chapter 3

_"Have you considered that perhaps the TARDIS isn't blocking these dreams or whatever they are because she doesn't want to? Maybe she's trying to tell you something."_

The moment she said it he knew precisely why he'd been avoiding this conversation. He had been theorizing for _weeks,_ fruitlessly, and now this little human girl hears about his problem and what is the first thing out of her mouth? The one possibility he had been studiously avoiding. The one thing he absolutely, positively did not want to hear, contemplate, or even give fleeting consideration to. Because if she was right, if the TARDIS was indeed trying to tell him something, then he was pretty certain what that something was. And to say he _didn't like it_ didn't even remotely begin to describe the strength of his feelings on the matter.

Amy was pretty sure she'd struck a nerve when his only response to her question was to sit and sullenly stare for long seconds at the pulsating movements of the Time Rotor, his eyes tracking its up and down motion. 

Her suspicion became certainty when the next minute he was suddenly all manic energy, jumping up and bounding around the console, pushing random buttons and violently yanking levers, then grinning widely when he noticed their tumultuous departure from the Vortex had her clutching frantically to the railing in order to stay upright. If she hadn't known him so well, Amy could have convinced herself that she had imagined his momentary dark mood.

"Well, why are you just standing there, Pond?" he asked as the rocking ship steadied, looking as pleased with himself as he always did when he was showing off. 

"Go fetch that husband of yours! I've got the perfect day planned for all of us. Have I ever told you about the magnificent rainbow beaches of Florinia? I'd say they were beautiful but that doesn't do it justice! Florinia is in the Castor system, which has three, yes, _three,_ pairs of binary suns. The planet orbits one pair and not one part of it is ever in complete darkness. It's the time of the summer solstice now," he said, yanking the monitor over to confirm the accuracy of this, "and the contrasting angles of the suns' light coming through the atmosphere along with varying temperatures have the loveliest effect on the sand- I can't describe it, you need to see it; you'll love it. Fantastic planet, nice and peaceful, not too touristy. Not feeling up to running for my life today. Hopefully we'll all get some rest and then I have something that I need to do."

 

******** 

 

"Look, is he waking up?" 

The voice was female and overly loud but the tone was joyful. The Doctor struggled to regain consciousness. The first thing he noticed about his surroundings was that the room was too warm (odd that it bothered him, actually) and it smelt strongly of antiseptic. What in the name of Rassilon was going on? 

Or perhaps more importantly, what was wrong with him? It certainly should not be this difficult to wake up. He gingerly opened his eyes and found he couldn't see a thing. Either this room was pitch black, or... well, he would rather not think about the _'or'._

He was in bed, but definitely not in his own bedroom. Or on the TARDIS. Also quite alarming.

The last thing he remembered was trudging through vibrant, color-streaked sand to the TARDIS after having a picnic on the beach with Amy and Rory. They had wanted to stay and lay out for the afternoon and have a swim in the gorgeous warm shallow waters of Florinia, so he told them to have fun and promised they would all meet again that evening to go out and sample some of the culinary delights the planet had to offer. He'd been so exhausted after the picnic that staying awake was no longer an option, and had fervently promised Amy that he would sleep (especially after she'd threatened to come and make sure). On arriving home he had headed to his bedroom immediately, falling on the bed without even removing his shoes.

Bracing a hand against the mattress, he attempted to push himself up into a sitting position and immediately regretted it as the blood began pounding fiercely in his temples. _Blimey, his head hurt._ He slid back down against the pillows.

"No, sweetheart, don't try to move; you aren't ready for that yet. Just lay back and rest," the voice bossed him, then turning away, "Where is she? Lord, the one minute she leaves this room and now he's finally waking up! Just like him, always has to do the opposite of what everybody wants! Go find her, for Pete's sake!" 

Apparently he and the female weren't alone in the room; he heard a male voice respond with a quick _"yes ma'am"_ followed by the chuff of trainers retreating and the snick of a door being opened.

"Don't worry, she's fine, she'll be here any second," her tone had changed again, now evidently making an attempt to soothe him.

It wasn't working. He was growing more agitated by the second. How could this be? He knew that voice. Would know it anywhere. But this was fully testing the limits of 'anywhere'. Because it was impossible. He didn't know where he was, he was now alone with a person he fully expected to never see again, and to top it all off he felt sore and stiff as if he'd been in a fist-fight with a Cyberman. 

He decided to begin with an easy question.

"Why is it so blasted dark in here?" It came out as little more than a croak. He was having trouble even formulating sentences properly. 

"Oh, sweetheart, it's not dark. Your eyes are bandaged."

"What? Why are my eyes bandaged?" he asked, hastily reaching a hand up to his face. Sure enough, gauze was covering his eyes in a thick band that went all the way around his head. "Did I injure them? How could I have done that?" He was regaining a bit of energy now. "I don't remember that!"

"No, no, no, your eyes are fine," she answered quickly, hoping to calm him. "Before you, well, went all unconscious, you told us to bandage them before you woke up. I have no idea why, but that's nothing new. I have no idea why you do half the things you bloody do,'' she continued, beginning to wind up into a full-fledged rant despite promising herself she wouldn't, "including getting my only daughter into these situations where one or both of you is gonna end up dead!"

"Seriously, Mum, you promised you wouldn't yell at him! Did you even look at him? He's hurt!"

Heart stuttering, Doctor turned his head incredulously toward the new voice. He hadn't heard her come in, distracted by her mother, but now that she was here his every sense was overwhelmed by her presence. 

_Rose._

Before his mind could even begin to process the enormity of this situation, he felt the mattress sink down as Rose crawled into his bed, further short-circuiting each and every one of his senses. Once she was close enough to be practically in his lap, her small warm hands clutched him to herself and she buried her face in his neck. 

The Doctor had no idea what to make of this. She certainly wasn't acting like she hadn't seen him in years; it was as if she felt she belonged there, so close to him that he wasn't sure where he left off and Rose began. The tiny portion of his shock-addled brain that was still functioning told him there were a thousand things he should be asking her, should be saying to her, but even his ever-dependable gob was failing him. He was stunned, frozen, could barely even breathe. The scent of her was heavy in the warm air, her breath hot on his neck, and a minute later he was almost lost, fully wrapped up in a cocoon of Rose. 

Until he noticed she was trembling. 

Spurred to action, he shifted and tentatively wrapped his arms around her. Rose responded by drawing a long, shuddering breath, then she released it in a sob. He automatically strengthened his embrace, moving one hand up to cradle the back of her head as dismay wrenched him back to reality. Oh, he hated it when she cried, especially when it was his fault, and this time he had no idea what he'd even _done._

They stayed like that for an indeterminable amount of time, her grieving into his neck and him embracing her tightly, until she finally began to calm down. They were barely aware of the sound of the door opening and then closing again, as Jackie, in a rare moment of thoughtfulness, left the room to give them some privacy. 

Eventually, Rose pulled back, snuffling, then she began wiping his shoulder and neck with the edge of the sheet. She didn't say anything.

"Rose?" he broke the silence, tentatively touching her arm, "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I'm always alright," she muttered under her breath, and the bitterness in her words stabbed him straight through the heart. Then he felt her hair brush the side of his face as she put her head down, and she said softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that; we promised each other we would never say that anymore." 

Rose drew a deep breath, voice hitching slightly in her effort to explain. "I was just so scared, and, and _angry_ with you for risking your life again. You knew it was unbelievably dangerous, they could kill you _so easily,_ and _you promised to let Torchwood take care of it!"_

She moved away, so she was no longer touching him, and he felt instantly bereft. He itched to reach out for her, to grab hold of her and never let her away from him again. Only his years of practice at _not touching Rose_ enabled him to force his hands into a white-knuckled grip on the blankets instead.

"So no, I'm _not alright,"_ she continued. "How can I be alright when I thought I was never gonna see you alive again? How can I be alright if I can't trust you? You promised me, Doctor. You promised me _forever._ But you just can't stop yourself, can you?" Her voice was stronger now, but growing distant as she roughly twisted the sheets in her hands. All this distance frightened him.

"Always thinking you're so smart nothing can ever hurt you. But you've got more than yourself to think about now and- and don't you dare _die_ and leave me alone here again!" 

At that she seemed suddenly determined to get away from him, sliding away and off the bed before he realized what she was doing. He cursed himself and his ridiculous inhibitions, now wholeheartedly wishing he'd never allowed her out of his arms.

"Rose?"

She didn't answer.

He was still so confused, but the apologies were ready on his lips; the promises. The confessions. Whatever it took to take her pain away, to restore her faith in him, he would do it. 

But the universe was cruel, and the words died unuttered as he heard her open the door, then close it quietly behind her as she left him alone- a seemingly impenetrable wall separating them once again.


	5. Chapter 4

That wasn't the worst part, when she left him there, alone and hurting. Far from it, because this time he had no intention of letting her get away, and the second that bloody door latched into place he clambered out of the bed, completely ignoring his head's throbbing protests at being held upright, as well as its dizzy, sick threats. 

No, the worst part came later, after he'd somehow managed to blindly stumble his way across the endless room, after the victory of finding the slippery sphere of the doorknob under his grasping palm, after the feeling of elation that came with having finally, irrevocably, made up his mind.

That's when it would always show up. The worst part, in the form of a tiny, little, niggling suspicion that none of this was quite as real as it should be. Despite his valiant attempts to disregard it, it persisted and grew and then- all of a sudden he became very aware that his body no longer ached. He felt warm, relaxed, and almost blissfully heavy. And by then it was too late. 

The dream was already fading, irretrievable, no matter how he might forlornly chase after it. 

 

********

 

Afterward, he laid there for a long time with his eyes closed, just thinking. 

He'd slept. For nearly five hours. That, at least, was an interesting change. He felt rested for the first time in weeks, and although he was grateful for this, it was more than a little unnerving. It felt like proof that the TARDIS had been behind this all along; that Amy was right. His ship was trying to tell him something. And he'd just been rewarded for paying attention, kind of like a dog who gets a biscuit when it finally performs a trick correctly.

Or maybe now she just needed him at his best.

 

Well, she should know that he'd be doing a whole lot better if his long-sought answer wasn't such a terrifying one. 

Still, what he felt most of all was the aching, gut-wrenching loneliness that the dream always left in its merciless wake. He was alone, Rose was gone, that would never change, so _why_ wasn't he being allowed to move on? Would he never be free of some sort of vivid reminder? How many times must he lose her, even if it wasn't technically real?

 

It certainly felt real.

 

He would know, because twice in his life, it had been. Twice he'd lost her, once by accident and once to impossible circumstances. And if he cut to the heart of the current matter, his ship was essentially asking him to say goodbye to her yet again.

Impossible was one thing. He ate impossible for breakfast. But why would his old friend demand something so- so _unthinkable?_

Whatever her reasons, it no longer seemed as if he had much of a choice.

"All right, old girl, I'll try," he said to her aloud, shaking his head in resignation. "I don't like it, but you always get me to do what you want eventually, don't you? Even when what you want is impossible and I'm not promising any results. If you remember, you're supposed to prevent the unruly Time Lord from breaking the laws of space and time, not coerce him into it. Why do I need to get involved in whatever problem they're having, anyway?" 

He got to his feet as the TARDIS brushed his mind with her own feelings. His ship's sentiments toward Rose he did understand, only too well.

"I know. But still, you are asking me to go to the last place in the universe that I'd ever choose to, even if it was easy." 

As he heard himself say it he smiled wryly at his own inaccuracy.

"Last place in the universe. Ha."

 

******** 

 

"Don't you dare even suggest what I think you're about to, Mister. You boys promised to take me out tonight, and there's no way I'm missing my opportunity to go out on the arm of the _hottest guy on the planet."_

The last five words out of her mouth were barely intelligible, so punctuated were they by giggles. 

"Well I'm glad you find this so hilarious, Amy, but I think it's embarrassing! We came to this planet to have a nice, relaxing day- and it was anything but! Why would I want to go back out there and subject myself to more of, of, _that?_ And I also want to know why in the world you aren't mad! Those women knew I was your husband and they were coming on to me anyway! And all you did about it was stand there and laugh! Not exactly the reaction I would've expected!"

"Oh, but you didn't see yourself." Amy stopped in her journey down the corridor toward their bedroom and turned to lay her hand flat on her husband's chest, arresting his movement as well. Her amber eyes were sparkling with mirth and it was all he could do to keep from smiling too, when she looked at him like that. But he was annoyed, darn it.

"The look on your face when that purple-haired woman asked you what you were doing with a girl like me when you could do so much better...." she started laughing again, uncontrollably, apparently re-living the experience in her mind. 

Rory scowled and ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"See, that's just what I'm talking about! She insulted you, Amy! I was expecting to have to hold you back from assaulting the woman when she said that, not watch you stand there and giggle like it was the funniest thing you ever heard! What if the shoe had been on the other foot and some guy had made a comment like that to you about me? You'd have assaulted _me_ if I'd laughed about it!" 

"No, I would've kissed you to soothe your wounded pride. Right after I punched the man who'd dare insult my _gorgeous husband._ Now lighten up, idiot, and enjoy the attention." She draped her arms loosely about his neck. "I think it's about time we visited a place where everyone thinks you are as beautiful as _I_ do." 

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then pulled back and smacked his arm, hard. "Now stop complaining and spoiling my fun. I am loving this and there's no way you are getting out of taking me to dinner tonight."

 

********

 

The Doctor smiled to himself as he overheard this snippet of conversation. He'd forgotten that little detail about this planet. The people of Florinia were humanoid, all fairly dark-skinned due to the constant sunlight, but their hair and eyes spanned every color of the rainbow. Red, like Amy's, was most common, but brown hair was extremely rare and considered the height of beauty, which explained Rory's sudden popularity. 

They'd pre-arranged for the Doctor to meet them back on the beach, but apparently the Ponds had tired of waiting for him and headed back to the TARDIS to shower and get ready for their planned evening out. After finally awakening in his bedroom, the Doctor knew he was supposed to head out to fetch them but he just hadn't been able to summon the energy. Or the courage. He had hoped his few hours of sleep would fortify him emotionally as well as physically, but no such luck. His head was hopelessly snarled up with Rose; the sharp, vivid detail of just how she felt in his arms, the warmth of her body branded onto his skin as though she'd been there moments earlier. Oh, it hurt.

It had been many years since that day when he'd left Rose on the beach with his double. Naturally, the pain of losing her had lessened with time, and he'd dealt with it the way he dealt with every other painful experience- he simply pushed any thoughts of her out of his mind as soon as they might surface. Oh, it still caught him unawares from time to time- he'd catch sight of a blonde dressed in pink, or perhaps stumble upon a book they'd once read together in the library, and an aching melancholy would overtake him for a time. But that was nothing in comparison to what he was dealing with now, when the visions of her were so tangible they'd ripped open wounds which had never fully healed, leaving him raw and bleeding.

He had been on his way to the console room after escaping his bedroom, but hadn't made it any farther than the library. He'd collapsed into the chair nearest the entrance and had just _sat_ since, staring at the walls, not even doing so much as fiddling with his sonic screwdriver. He was still there when he heard Amy and Rory making their way down the hall, and he knew it was time to pull himself together. The last thing he needed right now was another Amy Pond interrogation, but fortunately for him, it sounded as though her entire attention was focused on teasing Rory. 

Tilting his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut for few seconds and took a deep breath, gathering his strength. He carefully schooled his features into normalcy, yanked the nearest book he saw off the shelf and popped his head out the door.

"Sounds like Rory's quite the popular attraction on Florinia today, eh? That should add another level of excitement to our evening. It's the brown hair, by the way, since of course you were wondering. If you pay attention you'll see very few natives with brown hair. Hair color is how people measure beauty here; brown is rare but red is extremely common."

The Ponds were standing only a few feet away, still clad in their swimwear. Amy's hair was tangled and damp and they were both streaked with sand, a trail of which had been sprinkled on the floor like breadcrumbs as they had walked through the long TARDIS corridors. Amy's eyes widened when she saw the Doctor, and she immediately grabbed his arm and hauled him through the doorway in her excitement. 

"Did you sleep this afternoon? I hope so, because otherwise you missed it all for nothing! This was the most entertaining day I've ever had in my life, Doctor! Rory could barely do anything without tripping over all his admirers. This one woman was so forward she-"

"Now wait a minute, dear, the Doctor doesn't need all the details-"

"Oh, but I love details, Rory, details are what make life interesting! Details can help you solve a mystery, or make the right decision," the Doctor interjected, sharing a mischievous smile with Rory's wife.

"And details can turn a good story into a fantastic one. Although," he added thoughtfully, "fantastic stories are best saved for dinners out with good friends. You can make a much greater impact over a candle-lit tabletop than you could in a rather dark corridor, in my experience. Dark and dirty corridor," he clarified, eyeing the sand which was sprinkled liberally all over the floor.

Rory looked even less thrilled with the idea of going out than he had before. "Well, good to know the two of you will be fully entertained by my discomfort this evening," he muttered. "Although," he continued, brightening and looking over at the Doctor as realization struck him, "you have brown hair, too." A slow smile spread over his thin face as he imagined the Doctor in some of the situations he himself had been in that afternoon. "And you don't even have a wife to hide behind." Maybe there was some fun to be had tonight.

The Doctor looked alarmed. "Yes, that's true enough, I guess," he said, fingering his hair. Life really would be easier if only he was ginger. "But I didn't have any trouble when I was here last....although, I may have been blonde at the time. Not entirely sure. Maybe we should go somewhere else tonight." He felt himself beginning to side with Rory in this dispute.

But it wasn't going to be that easy, as this development only strengthened Amy's conviction that they should stay. 

"I think the two of you are acting like children, wanting to run away and hide because some girls think you're pretty. Come on, Rory, we need to get showered and changed because I'm starving," she said firmly, picking up her bag from the floor. "Neither of you is getting out of this so stop complaining and get a move on!"

"And you, Doctor," she said, turning to him, "I don't know what you're so worried about. Women come on to you all the time and you barely even notice, you alien. In fact, I feel more sorry for them than I do for you," she continued, wincing a bit as she recalled a particularly memorable occasion when she herself had come on to him, and had been promptly and thoroughly rejected. "You are Mister Charming everywhere we go and the poor things have no idea that you'd never think of noticing them that way."

"What?" He was rather shocked by this statement. He wasn't charming. Well, not often. Sometimes, possibly, if it furthered his plans or got him what he wanted.

Amy felt a little bit sorry she'd said anything. She hadn't meant to make him feel guilty. "You don't do it on purpose, but it happens. Don't worry about it, Doctor," she stated, touching his arm fondly. "They just don't know you the way we do. That you aren't like the rest of us that way." 

He looked confused by this, so she clarified her meaning. "You know, that you just don't fall in love." 

Even though the Doctor had supposedly married (depending on how you looked at it) her daughter, Amy was under no illusions about his actual feelings toward River. He cared about her, obviously, but the two of them had never had anything resembling an actual relationship, and Amy knew that was exactly how he intended to keep things. Perhaps falling in love and having the desire for a real relationship had been part of him at one time, when his own people still existed, but it certainly wasn't anymore.

She'd said this last bit offhandedly as she was beginning to walk away toward her bedroom, and didn't think anything of it when the Doctor didn't respond to her comment. The only reason she caught a glimpse of his face was because she'd looked back casually for Rory when he didn't immediately fall in step beside her. 

The Doctor was still there, just outside the library door. Posture rigid and painfully tight, he stood statue-like, staring at the wall, and the raw, burning, unnameable emotion in his eyes made Amy catch her breath. But before she was even certain of what she'd seen he had vanished back into the library.

Rory was watching him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Amy made to head into the library after the Doctor but Rory stopped her. 

"I have a feeling we need to leave him alone right now," he said gravely, looking her in the eyes. "And don't ask him about it later either. He's going to pretend that nothing happened and so are we. C'mon, let's go get changed." He grabbed her by the hand and she followed him, albeit unwillingly, to their bedroom.


	6. Chapter 5

Of course Rory was right. As the three of them trudged down the narrow dirt path on their way out to dinner (since Amy won that argument), the Doctor was acting as normally as he ever did. According to him, he had even slept all of the afternoon, and claimed to be feeling better than he had in weeks.

So far, she wasn't sure if she believed any of it.

Rory didn't say a word about what had happened earlier, and neither did Amy, to her credit. But she really, really wanted to. Why had he looked so upset? Was it still just tiredness? She had other theories too, but none of them fit the Doctor she had come to know so well. Or did she know him as well as she thought? Tonight was the first time she doubted it. 

Amy sighed and decided her attention was better devoted for the time being to the lovely scene around her. So far, their little excursion had been fairly uneventful, being it was the quiet time of day when most of the planet's inhabitants were home with their families, so the path to the village was virtually empty. The peacefulness of the atmosphere was as alien to the three of them as the planet they were standing on, and she figured she might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Why be worrying about the Doctor and his non-human reactions to things which she was probably completely misreading, anyway?

It was easy to see why Florinia was renowned throughout the galaxy for its unique rainbow beaches. The sand could be any color imaginable, depending on the time of day, and the color could change instantly in a particular spot if there was the smallest increase or decrease in temperature, such as might be caused by a footstep. That afternoon, the Ponds had exclaimed in delight over the red footsteps they left on pink sand in the lower areas, and yellow footsteps left on green sand in the higher ones. It was no end of fun playing with the sand, its softness making it easy to form and shape, trying to get it to change to a certain color, or simply lying back on a towel and watching the landscape transform before their eyes as the twin suns varied their positions throughout the day.

The rainbow beaches weren't the only wonderful component of the planet, though. It was also able to boast of some impressive forests, which was where the three wanderers currently found themselves. The flora benefited from the constant sunlight, so the bushes and flowers flourished abundantly, and the growth of trees was so tall and thick that they made the forest itself quite dark. In fact, these forests were where most of the natives made their homes, preferring the comparatively dark coolness as they went about their everyday lives to the constant heat and light on the barren beaches. The native people were also fiercely protective of their beautiful planet, and went to great lengths to keep it as untouched and natural as possible. There were no actual roads, just paths through the forest, which led to small villages. Amy thought it was like visiting leprechaun land, and was charmed. 

Florinia's inhabitants bore little resemblance to leprechauns, however, and were actually a technologically advanced race, despite outward appearances indicating otherwise. They were capable of off-world expedition and many were well-traveled, educated, and sophisticated, and, according to the Doctor, this was reflected in how they ran their businesses. Supposedly, there were plenty of dining establishments to choose from within walking distance and of course he claimed to know which one was the best.

The TARDIS had been parked on the edge of one the forests, near the beach, so it was a bit of a hike to reach the nearest village. Amy inhaled deeply of the fresh, flower-scented air and tucked her free hand comfortably in her jacket pocket, enjoying how her new blue dress swished lightly against her knees. Her other hand was entwined with Rory's, and as she looked over at him they smiled at each other. It was early evening now and both suns were as low as they ever got, and the orange light reaching out through the trees was dappled and soft on their faces. It played prettily on Amy's shining hair, back-lighting it to give her an almost angelic glow. Rory's smile deepened as he admired the dually beautiful and deceiving picture it made of his wife.

The Doctor was walking a few paces ahead, as usual. Since neither Amy or Rory was a huge fan of being tripped, they had learned long ago not to follow too closely behind him. When he was in a hurry it was fine, his stride was quick and purposeful, but in a situation like this he was forever being distracted by anything and everything, coming to an abrupt halt when you were least expecting it in order to more fully examine some fascinating flower or insect or stone. He'd already done it several times on this short journey and they watched, smiling, as he did it again now- clumsy but purposeful as he climbed into the thick undergrowth. He reemerged on the path behind them a couple of minutes later, holding in his hand a gorgeous, vivid, aquamarine-colored flower which was almost transparent in its delicacy. 

Rushing the short distance to now catch up to Amy and Rory, the Doctor was as excited as a child to show off his discovery. After he babbled on about it in scientific terms neither of them understood in the slightest, he fondly poked the bloom into Amy's hair and stepped back, his eyes warm as he admired the effect it created against her ruddy tresses. But before she could thank him he dashed off again, rounded a bend and disappeared from sight. 

Amy felt a familiar surge of love as she watched him go. This was her Doctor, her best friend, at his best. He was completely unaware of it, but Amy knew that at times like this, she was seeing his heart, the man he truly was. How did he do it? How could anyone have lived the life he had, survive the things he'd survived, _done the things he'd done,_ without it breaking them? Oh, he was battle-scarred, secretive, even frightening at times- but somehow through it all the real him had remained. Eager, inquisitive, ever joyous over the smallest things, all layered over a deep well of love for people and living creatures of any sort. Love that he often tried to hide, she realized insightfully, as much for his own protection as that of others. But that love was an integral part of who he was, as impossible to hide as a sunbeam, and it was constantly shining through in gestures grand and small. Amy reached up to touch the latest evidence of it residing in her hair.

"Oh, and here we are! Beautiful! ...Ponds? Did I lose you already?"

The Doctor's words echoed back clearly through the tranquil atmosphere, and at first he sounded even more captivated than when he'd found the lovely floral specimen. It took the Ponds less than a minute to catch up to him but he'd already walked back their way a few paces, searching for them, an annoyed look on his face. He may have had many virtues but patience was nowhere on the list.

They'd finally reached the village, though Amy had a hard time seeing what the Doctor was so excited about. There was barely even a clearing, although there were cabin-like structures scattered this way and that. It looked more like a very large logger's camp than an actual village, and Amy didn't notice anything distinguishing private residences from establishments that would be open for business. They all looked pretty much the same; bark or moss covered wooden buildings, some with pretty flowering vines climbing up their fronts. All in all, it reinforced Amy's conviction that this really was Leprechaun Land, and she decided there and then that perhaps leprechauns _did_ come in regular human size, sans pointed ears, and were more interested as hitting on her husband than in finding pots of gold.

It seemed as though the Doctor knew exactly where he wanted to go, however, and he seized Amy's hand without delay and began pulling her along to the right and over a small swell in the landscape. A sparkling lake came into view with several low structures lining its shore. 

"Good, excellent, it _is_ still there!" the Doctor announced. "Mdanda's on Lake Jules. They have live music," (sure enough, Amy could hear the tentative strains of a band warming up) "which I thought you might like, since I know Amy is so fond of dancing." Surprised by his unusual thoughtfulness, Amy was about to smile at him in gratitude, but rapidly checked it when she saw he was wearing his _I'm amusing myself at your expense face._ Again. 

"Better to get it out of your system here than in my console room."

Yep, there it was. She could see he was trying not to smirk, although he'd have you believe this was one of the biggest issues plaguing his life. It was one of the games they played. He'd work on the TARDIS, and since she and Rory never liked to leave him alone with his own thoughts for too long, Amy would come in and blare whatever music she was in love with that week. And sometimes she'd dance. Quite wildly. There wasn't much else to entertain herself with in the control room and she got tired of reading. The Doctor always complained and she always ignored him. This was how their friendship worked. 

Amy regarded him in mock seriousness, hiding the fact that she was secretly thrilled to see him teasing her again. "You like it when I dance in the console room," she said matter-of-factly, "so don't start pretending otherwise. So does the TARDIS, since half the time she turns on the music for me without my even asking. And what's more," she poked her finger into his chest, "I've caught _you_ dancing in there more than once yourself, mister. _If_ you could call whatever that was dancing." 

Amy left no doubt that it was a very big _'if'._ Rory laughed out loud and the Doctor's eyes widened at having the tables turned on him. He shook his head in resignation and laughed with his friends. 

The restaurant itself looked no different than any of the other buildings in the village, but, as promised, the interior of Mdanda's completely belied its humble and innocuous exterior. The place was sleek and sophisticated, but the overall effect was welcoming rather than intimidating. However, the Doctor, who rarely cared about such things, immediately requested that they be seated out back on the patio. This was an excellent choice, and the three were now taking in a lovely view of the lake. The unique angles of sunlight that produced such spectacular effects on the beaches here played almost as gorgeously on the water's glassy stillness. 

There was no way to know for certain if the food was the 'best on the planet', as the Doctor claimed (not without a lot more time than they cared to spend, anyway) but it was certainly delicious and more than lived up to expectations. But they weren't really there for the food anyway. The real reason that Amy had campaigned so vigorously for this was that she wholeheartedly believed that what the Doctor really needed was a nice evening off the ship where the three of them could just enjoy each other's company. It seemed as if her plan was working out splendidly, and she was supremely satisfied as the band played and Rory spun her round the large portion of patio that was meant for a dance floor. 

It also didn't hurt that she was quite certain that she was the envy of pretty much every other woman there, coming in as she did on the arms of not just one, but two, extremely handsome brunette boys. Although, it hadn't taken the women long to figure out that while Rory might be unequivocally taken (Amy Pond death-glares _were_ a very frightening thing), the Doctor was _not,_ and at first Amy worried that being approached by so many of them might ruin his tenuous good mood.

But he was being a great sport about it. As far as she knew he hadn't complained once. The only other time Amy had ever seen him dance so willingly was at her wedding, and even then he'd spent most of his time with the children. It was fairly obvious that all of this was him making an effort, for her, probably because he felt badly over how he'd been acting lately. Not that he'd ever say it. But Amy knew and she loved him for it. 

The song was a slow one and as Amy swayed happily in Rory's arms she tucked her chin up against his shoulder, enjoying the scratchiness of his stubbly cheek against her smooth one. She looked around for the Doctor but didn't see him in the crowd of couples. What a surprise. She'd been expecting him to disappear long before now, actually.

"Wonder if the Doctor's off hiding in the shrubbery? I don't see him anywhere," she said into her husband's ear. Rory didn't respond, and Amy could tell from his body language that his attention wasn't entirely focused on her. She pulled back and saw that he was looking intently down the hill, toward the shoreline, angling his head in order to get a better view of something. She instantly turned out of his arms to look in the same direction, wondering what it was that had captured his attention.

"I _think_ I might have found him," Rory said slowly, sounding rather nonplussed. 

Sure enough, the shadowy silhouette down by the water was a very familiar one. The unfamiliar part about it was that the silhouette wasn't alone. Amy frowned as she recognized the second person as a woman the Doctor had been dancing with earlier. She was beautiful even by Earth standards, tall and shapely with waist-length dark hair. Her dress was simple but elegant, short and soft in an emerald color which set off her lovely dark complexion. The two of them were standing very close together, and though it was hard to tell from that far away the picture they presented was that of two lovers having a quiet conversation, her face tilted up to his as he smiled down at her. 

Amy frowned, then she quickly remembered that, despite appearances, this was _the Doctor;_ he never paid any sort of romantic attention to anyone. At least he was still around, and still in a good mood. Shrugging it off as nothing, she was about to turn back to Rory when, right in front of her astonished eyes, the Doctor raised his hand up to the young woman's face and slowly trailed a bold finger down her cheek. She tilted her head flirtatiously in response to his move, spoke a few smiling words which Amy could not hear, and then he laughed and twined his roving finger in a tendril of her dark hair. He played with it for a moment, smirking roguishly, before letting go to run his hand down her arm so he could tangle his fingers with hers. Every trace of his usual awkward mannerisms had gone.

Who was this person, whose posture now absolutely radiated confident alpha male? His best friend couldn't have been more stunned if he'd announced an intention to sell his TARDIS and live in a tent. For a full minute Amy could do nothing but observe him, blinking, but then she recovered and impulsively let go of her husband, intending to get a closer look. 

Well, actually she intended to march straight down there, but Rory grabbed her arm. He shook his head when she looked back at him in annoyance.

"You know you can't go down there," Rory said earnestly, eyes wide, willing her to listen to him. "Yes, it's weird, extremely weird, I know, but you can't just go marching over like you're his mother or something. He's fine. He's not doing anything to start trouble and isn't that all we were hoping for from this evening?"

"He's not in trouble _yet,_ you mean. Look at him, Rory!" she hissed, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "There is obviously something wrong with him; I've thought so for days now and this just proves it! Maybe he's sick with some, oh, I don't know, weird alien disease or something!" Her voice was getting louder and she had begun gesturing rather wildly in the Doctor's general direction, and Rory had to clamp down firmly on her arms and almost drag her back toward the building before she drew too much attention to herself. He didn't mind getting the Doctor out of her view, either.

"Amy, he's just talking to a woman, that doesn't mean there's something wrong with him." Rory was trying to be the voice of reason, but it had little calming effect on his wife, who still looked as though she were certain the world was coming to an end. He tried again. "Maybe he likes her. He did dance with her several times, earlier, you know." 

The second Rory said it he realized that she did not, in fact, 'know'. He winced and wished wholeheartedly that he could shove the words back into his big, fat mouth.

Amy was thunderstruck as she turned on him. "I saw him dance with that girl _once! Once,_ Rory! So when did this 'several times' happen and where was I?"

"I don't know; we were dancing! Part of the time we were sitting at the bar. Anyway, I thought I was here to have a nice evening with my wife, I didn't know I was supposed to be keeping track of everything that thousand-year-old alien was up to! Why should we even care, anyway? In fact, now that I think about it, showing some interest in a woman is one of the most _normal_ things I've ever seen him do!"

But Amy wasn't listening anymore, so she missed this grand epiphany. She was too busy pushing her way through the masses of dancing couples, since she obviously couldn't spy on the Doctor effectively from where they were standing. Rory rolled his eyes and followed her over to the low stone wall bordering the dance floor. 

She sat down on the wall, in a carefully chosen spot that was partially hidden by a large grouping of potted plants, since this was now clearly a stake-out. Rory did not object, figuring this was better than the earlier shouting and vigorous waving of arms. His wife undeniably thought this was a much bigger deal than he did and Rory could practically see her mind laboring as she kept a wary eye on her inscrutable alien.

"What if she's controlling his mind or something?" she said abruptly, after about ten minutes of this. Amy felt this theory was worth voicing, but Rory just looked at her in sympathy.

"Dear, I know you're worried about the Doctor, and a lot of people do want to hurt him, I know, I've seen it too. But he can take care of himself. He's not sick, and I certainly don't believe _anyone_ could take over his mind." Rory laid his palm on Amy's cheek, gently coaxing her to look him in the eyes. "That girl is probably just shallow, Amy, likes his brown hair, right?"

Rory ruffled up his own brown hair and was rewarded with a small smile. Encouraged, he glanced quickly again toward the tableau by the lake then back at his wife, grinning widely all of a sudden. "What in the world could he _possibly_ be saying to her down there?" he wondered aloud, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. "Can you imagine?" 

Rory squared his shoulders and attempted a fairly respectable imitation of the Doctor's lordly tone. "Hello, I'm the Doctor. Nope, I don't have a real name. But I do have a magical time-traveling box. Let me show it to you. I know, but it only looks like it's no bigger than a cupboard. Don't worry. I just need to get you inside it and then you'll be _really_ impressed...." Rory broke off; laughing too hard to continue, and Amy's laugh ringing out with his was genuine.

But despite her husband's attempts to distract her, Amy was legitimately worried. She knew it was a stretch, thinking the Doctor needed her help, and if she was honest with herself it was more that she'd far rather believe he was in trouble- trouble was easy, she could handle that, hands tied behind her back- than find out her Doctor had hidden part of himself from her for years. 

She'd been turning the evening over in her mind as she sat there, reviewing his actions in a different light, and it didn't take her long to realize that he had been acting oddly again after they finished dinner. The music had picked up then as the evening wore on, encouraging people to leave their little tables and find a dance partner. Several women had approached both the Doctor and Rory, but Amy had been expecting that. Rory, of course, had been more than happy to avoid all of them and stuck closely by his wife, but now that she thought about it the Doctor had almost welcomed the attention. That in itself was weird. Really odd. Downright baffling, even. 

Of course, he was a naturally charming person, interested in people of all sorts, but normally once it dawned on him that someone was showing him _that_ kind of interest, he transformed straight away into the personification of uneasiness: all gangly limbs and awkward words, eyes darting about, looking more terrified than when staring down a legion of Daleks. He couldn't get away fast enough. Yet he'd known before they'd even arrived that that was exactly the sort of attention he would get here, and when it happened he spoke to these women with easy confidence, his gestures graceful and words smooth. She'd seen him accept one dance partner after another and had been grateful to him for it at the time, thinking he was on his best behavior. For once. For her. Well. Maybe he had been. 

Amy glanced down toward the water again, but the Doctor and his brunette beauty hadn't moved much. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the grass, looking out over the water together, and the Doctor was pointing at something on the horizon. Maybe he had just found someone who was willing to listen to one of his lectures. 

But... _why_ was his hand spread across the small of her back, idly toying with the ends of her hair? 

It couldn't be what it seemed to be. Could it? All Amy knew was that she didn't like it one bit.


	7. Chapter 6

The first words the Doctor used to extricate himself from the situation weren't clever. 

"I'm sorry, but I need to go now. My ship leaves tonight." 

They were even truthful. 

The first thoughts that went through his mind when he saw the depths of the young woman's disappointment weren't pleasant.

_Stupid. Idiot._

His next thoughts were synonyms of the first thoughts.

Words and thoughts were rapidly followed by the deep desire to pinpoint the exact moment in the day that he'd made the fantastic decision to be, not the Doctor, but rather a petulant five-year-old. And frustration that he couldn't change it, even though he was a _Time Lord with a time-machine._

What made it worse was that she was actually a nice girl. Clever even. Not clever enough to see through his lies, but few people were. 

_Amy._

He bid her goodnight, and goodbye. Her eyes had implored him to kiss her, the perfect romantic ending, seeing as they were to be parted forever and all. But his guilty conscience wouldn't allow it; he had gone much too far with this little game already. He brushed his lips lightly across her forehead, then turned and walked away. Full aware that she wasn't the only person watching him go, he made his way up the hill, taking the long way around the building, purposefully buying himself a few extra minutes before he had to face his companions. 

 

*******

 

The first feeling Amy had when she saw the Doctor take his leave was of complete and utter relief. For the last several minutes, she'd been wondering if the TARDIS was possibly going to have another inhabitant.

The next feeling Amy had was, amazingly enough, pity. For the girl he left standing there. She looked sad and dejected, not moving at all until the Doctor rounded the bend and was no longer visible.

Followed by surprise, that she'd had it all backward. Maybe the _girl_ had needed to be protected from the _Doctor._

Amy was startled when Rory touched her arm to get her attention. She watched as he stretched and stood up, then he offered his hand to pull her to her feet. "I'm sure he's ready to go," Rory said. The only feeling Rory had at the moment was happiness that it was finally time to leave. He was sick of sitting on the cold wall, spying on the Time Lord. "And please try to show him some mercy," he added. "We don't know for sure what was going on, and to be honest, I still don't understand why it's bothering you so much."

Amy met his eyes with her own as he pulled her up. "I've been asking myself that same question," she confessed. "It's not like I'm jealous or anything. I guess I just, I thought I knew him so well. Maybe I even prided myself on that, I don't know. But this has made me realize that there's no way I can know everything about him. So what that we've been in his life for about ten years now? He's been around for more than nine-hundred. Ten years is a tiny amount of time, the blink of an eye for him."

Rory wrapped his arm snugly around her waist. "Does that make you feel like maybe you aren't as important to him as you thought?" he asked, his voice full of sympathy.

"No, I don't think so," she answered hesitantly. "Well, maybe a bit. But Rory, have you ever thought about the fact that we know next to nothing about his past? Sure, he talks about when he visited a certain planet or time period and he tells us stories about what happened, but he never talks about who was there with him. He never shares anything _personal._ I feel like an idiot for not really noticing it before." Her eyes were sad and she chewed her bottom lip, staring at the ground.

Rory leaned in and tilted her chin up with two fingers. "Hey, the only person I want you calling an 'idiot' is me." He smiled at her and got a tiny smile in return. "And I'm sure the Doctor has reasons why he doesn't share certain things," he rationalized. "Maybe he's trying to protect us. Or himself. Maybe it hurts him to think of his past. But if there's one thing I am certain of it's that you are very important to him. He loves you."

Oh, how she adored her extremely wise husband. Amy knew he was right. She felt a little bit better.

 

********

 

It wasn't hard to tell that the Doctor had slipped into another of his black moods, so the walk back to the TARDIS was mostly silent. Amy was content to leave him be for the moment because she was still thinking things over, plus she knew that when the Doctor got like this it was useless to try and talk to him anyway. Time and place. That didn't mean he was off the hook, though. Not even close. 

They had just about reached the edge of the forest where the TARDIS was parked when something finally clicked in Amy's mind. She'd known there something missing; something bothering the Time Lord that he wasn't telling her. He'd claimed it was simply tiredness and she'd accepted it at the time, but he'd slept that afternoon and his behavior had just gotten odder. He'd acted extremely out of character twice in just the few short hours since, and until this moment she'd thought of them as separate incidents. But now she linked them together and all of a sudden everything made sense, causing Amy to clearly realize three things:

1\. The Doctor hadn't fallen for that girl. 

2\. His behavior that evening _had_ been for Amy's benefit, but not because he was trying to make things up with her. 

3\. He had been a complete _git._

"I hurt your feelings earlier, didn't I?" she said suddenly, to his back. The Doctor's pace faltered, and she could see him stiffen, but he didn't turn around. "When I said you couldn't fall in love. It made you angry. Is that why you were acting like Romeo all night? To prove me wrong?"

He turned around then, but only because he didn't really have a choice, and looked at her from deep-set eyes. They weren't giving much away, but she could see the tiniest amount of guilt there.

Her eyebrows shot up. "I'm right, aren't I?" 

Amy's jaw dropped, and she gave him a look that told him she thought he was quite possibly the stupidest person she'd ever seen. "Bit of an overreaction, don't you think? Why would you _do_ that? That poor girl looked like she thought you were her Prince Charming! I still don't know how you pulled it off, by the way, but you hurt her, do you realize that? Was it worth it?" Her cheeks were flushed with anger as she glowered at him. "Well, your plan worked; I hope you're satisfied. You definitely showed me that I misjudged you." 

She brushed by him angrily, stalked up to the TARDIS and pushed inside. It was impossible to tell if Amy or the TARDIS herself was responsible for the significant _slam_ of the door.

The Doctor stared after her, looking defeated and guilty. He certainly hadn't set out to try and _prove_ anything to her but once the opportunity had presented itself he had just acted on impulse. Amy certainly had him pegged correctly when she said he couldn't be trusted when he was emotional. Why couldn't he have just let her comment go? He knew she hadn't meant to hurt him, but oh, it was such terrible timing for her remark to come right after that dream had gotten him so twisted up and aching, vivid images of _the girl he loved_ so fresh in his mind. 

Rory made no move to follow his wife but instead walked over to the Doctor and stood quietly next to him for a few moments. "She's angry," he announced unnecessarily. "Just give her time to cool down; she'll be fine. You know how she is." The Doctor looked at him then, grimacing. 

"I feel terrible. She's right, I completely overreacted, and I hurt people. Hurt Amy. I hate it when I do that," he said quietly, shaking his head.

Rory responded to this in his usual frank and open way. "So....what exactly were you thinking, anyway? Why did Amy get you so upset? She had good reason for believing the way she did, by the way. You've always acted as if something as, as, _primitive_ as being in love was beneath you. Like the whole having a job thing. It's something humans do but Time Lords do not. When we saw you down by the water with your arm around that girl Amy thought you were sick, or under mind-control, or something. Says a lot, doesn't it? She thought one of those things far more likely than you actually being interested in someone."

This conversation was heading into territory _far_ out of the Doctor's comfort zone. Rory watched him as he rubbed one hand against the back of his neck, then pulled it through his thick brown hair, thoroughly disheveling it. He met Rory's eyes briefly, then looked away again, probably hoping Rory would give up and go away if he fidgeted for long enough. But Rory, of course, was nothing if not patient. 

"It was childish," the Doctor responded finally, fiddling with one of his buttons. "No better way to explain it, really. I wanted you to believe I felt... love...was a human emotion and then I childishly got angry when you- when _she,_ did believe it. Also, well... there were other underlying circumstances, things neither of you know about, that have been bothering me recently which contributed to it. I wasn't thinking clearly, to say the least." 

He could see the next obvious question on Rory's lips, _"What's been going on?"_ but since the Doctor hadn't the slightest intention of answering that one, he plowed on.

"I think I've just gotten so used to her always just _knowing,"_ he tried to explain. "Knowing better, knowing me, so well that even if it's too hard be honest about some things she knows the truth anyway. She understands. I've never had anyone like that in my life before," he said solemnly, then amended the statement with words so soft Rory could barely hear them. 

_"Almost never."_

Lost in thought, the Doctor gazed skyward for a few moments before turning back to his friend. "Anyway, it was foolish of me to expect that of her; foolish to react that way. I'm sorry, Rory. And I need to apologize to her as well." He was about to head into the TARDIS, but Rory stopped him with a hand on his arm. The Doctor looked at Rory in confusion.

"Something still doesn't add up, Doctor," he said slowly as he mulled over the Time Lord's words. "I don't think this is just about you being misunderstood and not liking it. For instance, Amy also didn't know that you needed to sleep, before you admitted it today. You led us to think that sleeping was also one of those human things that are too primitive for Time Lords and we both believed it for years. Yet you weren't angry when she didn't figure that one out for herself. So that tells me that the subject of sleeping isn't a touchy one, but the...other subject... _is."_

Rory was kind of proud of his insightfulness as he waited for the Doctor's reaction. He didn't really expect an actual response in words per se, but he was hoping to at least see enough in his friend's face to determine if he was correct on this point. 

So Rory was beyond surprised when the Doctor just gazed at him levelly and answered with clear, direct words that left no room for misinterpretation.

"Yes, well, when you've had your hearts broken it's usually a touchy subject."


	8. Chapter 7

_"Yes, well, when you've had your hearts broken it's usually a touchy subject."_

********

As soon as the words were out the Doctor beat a hasty retreat into the TARDIS, nervously muttering something about smoothing things over with Amy. Rory kindly allowed him to make his escape without further comment. Secretly, he was rather grateful to be left outside alone for a bit, so he could think, and the quiet beach provided the perfect atmosphere for that activity. Especially when compared to the chaos likely going on inside the console room.

Rory rested his weight against the smooth side of the ship, idly tracing the wood-grain with one finger as he replayed their conversation in his mind. Incredible. He'd been traveling with the Doctor for so long now that he'd become immune to almost everything, but _this-_ now this was surprising. Could the Doctor have possibly meant it the way it sounded? 

Rory tried to picture the Time Lord, the man he traveled with, the same one who just couldn't fathom why he and Amy hadn't wanted _bunk beds_ in their bedroom, actually being in love with someone -then half-laughed at the strange image forming in his mind. It was just so hard to believe. Yet, when he held the Doctor's behavior that evening up in the light of those words, it was the only thing that made any sort of sense. 

But who could she have been? And what had happened to her? Well, no matter how much he wondered about it, or how hard he tried to reconcile the idea with a person he'd long since started seeing as more alien than man, Rory was certain he'd never really know the truth anyway. What he did know, now, was that his friend was hurting, and he felt sorry for him. 

He stepped away from the ship, scuffing his feet around in the soft sand as he debated as to whether or not he ought to share this information with his wife. It would definitely go a long way toward reinstating the unlucky Time Lord into Amy's good graces, but at the same time he felt certain the Doctor had shared this tiny glimpse of personal history only because he trusted Rory to listen, then let it go. Amy was a different story. Toss her a juicy bone like that and she'd never leave it until she had pried, snooped, harassed, or even tricked the Doctor into giving her every possible detail. 

Better not tell her, Rory decided; there'd been enough turmoil on the ship lately. So that meant the Doctor was on his own to figure out how to smooth things over with her tonight. 

Rory snorted and leaned back on the blue box again, imagining how that must be going. He didn't envy the man. Although, if he was honest, it was kind of nice for the Doctor to be the one in trouble for once, instead of him.

But before he had time to fully enjoy this rare reversal of fortune, the one in trouble popped his head out the TARDIS doors so unexpectedly that Rory jumped.

"So that's where you've got off to!" The Doctor's voice was far too loud for the quiet atmosphere and his words echoed, as though he wished for half the planet to hear of how he'd been kept waiting. Impatience was etched into every line of his face and he seemed to have already forgotten the day's events completely, including the fact that he himself had been standing in this precise location only minutes earlier. 

He glared at Rory. "What are you doing out here? Have you decided to stay- start a modeling career, perhaps? We were about to dematerialize without you!"

Biting back a retort, Rory squeezed his eyes shut tightly, drawing a long breath through his nose. He was feeling decidedly less sorry for the Doctor by the second.

All of a sudden it was quiet and Rory opened his eyes to find that the Time Lord had already disappeared back into the ship. He shook his head in exasperation as he reluctantly followed through the open doors. In immediate view was Amy, who was sitting on the jump seat in her usual spot, and as he entered she shot him a look of annoyance that was almost identical to the one he'd just gotten from the Doctor. Rory suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. How in the world had that crazy alien managed to talk her round so quickly? 

He gave a half-second's consideration to actually verbalizing that question before silently joining his wife on the jump seat. It wasn't worth it to even bother; he wouldn't lower himself to their level. Although, who could blame Rory if he did allow himself the small satisfaction of burning holes in the back of the tweed jacket with his eyes?

The Doctor was blissfully unaware of this emotional assault to his clothing as he watched the monitor, entering the coordinates as his right hand blindly reached for the buttons to start the dematerialization sequence. The TARDIS jolted to life and the Doctor dashed to the other side of the console, hands in action all the way, then carelessly flicked the switch to put them into the Time Vortex. Amy and Rory clutched at their seat reflexively as the ship surged into action.

These precautions proved to be unnecessary as their ride slowed within seconds, then stopped abruptly. 

"We've landed?" said Amy, slowly getting to her feet. "Why've we landed somewhere already?" She eyed the Doctor in high suspicion. "Haven't you had enough fun for one night?"

"I'm not taking you anywhere for fun, Pond. The day is over, of course. I've taken you home. Thought you might like to sleep in your own beds for once."

Amy's eyebrows knitted together. "Don't be stupid, Doctor. We can sleep just as well in our beds on this ship and you know it. You never land anywhere while we're sleeping unless you're sneaking off to do something without us." He spluttered indignantly at this but she cut him off. "And that's when we're still on the TARDIS. Since you're obviously keen to get us off this ship, that means you're about to go do something stupid, _alone,_ and you don't want us to find out about it." She crossed her arms, a picture of stubborn defiance. "Nope, not leaving."

The Doctor frowned at her, then looked to Rory imploringly. Rory met the Doctor's eyes steadily as he got to his feet and went to stand by his wife. He shook his head, a serious look on his face. 

"Sorry Doctor, but I'm with Amy on this one. I really don't think it's a good idea for you to swan off somewhere alone right now."

"In case you've forgotten, this is _my_ ship and I've been handling things on my own for the better part of nine-hundred years. I should think I can take care of myself for one night without your help. I'll be back for you in the morning." He meant this as a command, even said it in his best _this is not an option_ voice, the one he used to make armies turn and run. But for some unfathomable reason, these two little humans were unmoved. Literally.

"Nope," Amy repeated, drawing the word out as though trying to get the point across to an unruly and somewhat slow child, and Rory braced himself. Whenever his wife and the Doctor disagreed this strongly it was kind of like watching two locomotives hurtling toward one another on the same track, both refusing to move out of the way or even slow down. Terrifying, but you just can't help but look on in morbid fascination.

But tonight the Doctor surprised him. "Listen," he said, suddenly the personification of reasonableness, "I told you earlier today that I needed to take care of something. I've, well, the TARDIS has been indicating lately that there may be a rift, a small rift, in the fabric of space and time. When the Time Lords still existed, one of their duties was to prevent this sort of thing occurring, or fix it if it did. As the last Time Lord this responsibility now falls to me alone. But it's boring, Ponds. I never know where the problem lies exactly and sometimes it can take weeks to find. Why would you want to be on the TARDIS for all that time, wasting weeks of your short little lives, instead of staying home for just one insignificant night?" 

But even these substantial arguments made no impact, unless he counted the fact that Amy made a face at his 'short little lives' comment and Rory rolled his eyes. 

"I can come back for you in the morning," he repeated, for some reason still hoping to win this battle, "and we'll be off again, together, for the grand adventures and all that. You won't miss a thing; time machine, remember?" His smile was charming, but neither of his friends smiled back.

"Doctor, it's not that we're worried about missing out on something," said Rory. "We're worried about you. You've just admitted it yourself that you haven't been thinking straight and we aren't leaving you alone right now, no matter how boring it might be."

Charm was immediately discarded in favor of silent outrage (which he was admittedly better at). In truth, he just didn't know how to argue with this. Stupid Rory and his stupid logic.

The atmosphere in the room was quickly deteriorating and Amy decided that maybe it would be best to try and smooth things over a bit. She came close to the Doctor and straightened his bow tie, then smoothed his lapels with soothing hands while she looked him in the eye. "You need us right now, Raggedy Man, whether you admit it or not."

But the Doctor was having none of it. His scowl deepened, eyes darting back and forth between his two mutinous companions from under lowered brows. Was he really not in charge here? On his own ship?

_"Fine!"_ he growled finally, roughly twisting round to remove himself from Amy's grasp. He paced away across the room, then just as quickly turned and came back, pointing an aggravated finger first at Amy, then Rory. 

"You win! I'm not arguing about it anymore, but no one better come crying to me when you're tired of floating in the Vortex for days on end with nothing new to see." Two heads nodded in eager cooperation.

"And," he added, sticking his face so close to Amy's that his nose was almost touching hers, _"and,_ if we do end up somewhere, I want you to promise me you will _stay in the TARDIS_ unless I say otherwise." Eyebrows raised, he looked to each of them for their response.

Having already gotten their way in the matter, both Ponds agreed to his addendum without hesitation. Rory may have meant it entirely, but Amy had made- and broken- this particular promise so many times she was surprised that he even bothered asking her anymore, and was even more surprised when her answer actually seemed to calm him.

Agitation subsiding to mere grumpiness, he reluctantly put the ship back into the Vortex with all three passengers still on board. "What are you standing around for? I said no more fun tonight," he grumbled, as he moved over to the scanner and began checking its readouts. "Off to bed with you then."

Amy and Rory looked at each other and shrugged. Rory inclined his head toward the staircase, and Amy nodded to him but then stepped up quickly behind the Doctor, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you, Doctor," she said, smiling sweetly. "See you in the morning." She skipped over to her husband, and grabbing him by the arm, pulled him up the stairs and away down the corridor.

The Doctor watched them go, a reluctant smile forming on his face. That stubborn girl. She really knew how to manipulate him. And for some reason, he loved her all the more for it.

 

********

 

"Rory, how many times do I have to tell you, 'no toast in the console room'?" said the Doctor irritably, without looking up from where he was working at the console.

"It's for you. Amy says you need to eat something."

"I don't need her to tell me when to eat; I'm not on some feeding schedule like you humans- oh, it has jam!" He gleefully reached over and snatched the plate of toast from Rory's hand. The snack had nearly made it into his mouth when a strange expression spread over his features. He put the toast down and shot a sharp look at the other man.

"Where'd you get jam? We're out of jam. Have you been hiding it from me?"

But the accused jam thief showed no outward sign of guilt. "It was in the refrigerator."

"No, I distinctly remember searching for jam in the refrigerator yesterday and it was gone. I want to know where you got it." 

"Okay, Doctor, you got me. I snuck off to the market and picked up a few jars of jam while you were busy flying us through the Vortex." 

"Ha, ha, very funny. Don't play games with me." Wise, all-knowing green eyes studied Rory intently, coming to a swift judgment. "I think you're a jam hoarder. Probably have all the jars hidden away somewhere; maybe under your mattress or something where you know I won't look."

Rory's jaw dropped in disbelief. "You are seriously accusing me of keeping _jars of jam_ under my mattress? Do you even _hear_ yourself? I was trying to be nice, bringing you something to eat and-"

"Leave Rory be, Doctor," Amy's loud voice rang out through the console room, startling both of them. Where had she come from? She was carrying three cups of tea but still somehow managed to gesture threateningly in the Doctor's direction. "He's not hiding the jam from you; the TARDIS is. She knows it's all you've eaten for the past few days."

"Is not!"

"Yes, it is. Straight out of the jar, too. _So_ disgusting. You could at least use a spoon."

Rory instantly regretted what he'd had for breakfast that morning. 

The Doctor looked sulky as he took a bite of his toast. They'd been in the Vortex for almost two weeks now, and all three of them were beginning to go a bit mad with boredom, though none of them would ever admit it.

The yarn he'd spun about having to search out and repair a rift in time had shown itself to have more truth to it than the Ponds had expected. He'd been so determined to get rid of them that they were sure whatever he was up to was at least death-defying, if not universe ending. But they'd actually never seen him do so much of, well.... nothing. He'd barely even left the console room, spending all his time staring at the spanner, analyzing readings, or recalibrating the TARDIS. Truthfully, at this point the Ponds were feeling more than a bit sorry they hadn't listened to him, but even if they had to stay here in the TARDIS for a year they'd never dare voice that to the Doctor or ask to go home. Indeed, he was already being quite impossible about it, taking every opportunity to point out how innocent he was, and that if they'd only gone home and trusted him for once they could've skipped all this, just like he'd promised.

He said it again now and Amy barely restrained herself from pouring her tea over his big alien head. Rory actually almost did it, being that he was the one close enough to reach.

"Boring, boring work, boring, boring Doctor," he sing-songed, tone unbelievably patronizing as he typed away on his keyboard with one hand, holding his sticky toast in the other. "Don't you wish you'd listened to me and just stayed home for one teensy, little, itty-bitty night? Well, I guess you're learning that being a Time Lord is not all fun and games and grand adventures. But a rift in time and space is not something one can just let go unattended."

Amy winced. "Please don't give us the hole in the jumper illustration again."

Apparently the Doctor was deaf to everything but the sound of his own beloved voice. "A rift in time can be compared to a tiny hole in your jumper. If you don't fix it right away-"

"The hole will just get bigger and bigger and eventually the whole jumper could unravel," supplied Rory helpfully.

Amy snickered and the Doctor glared at both of them. "It's rude to interrupt when someone is talking."

Completely ignoring his lesson in manners, Amy plopped herself inelegantly down on the seat next to him and crossed her legs, not caring in the slightest that this caused her skirt to hitch up to a degree which made the Doctor uncomfortable. "What's this all about?" she asked, picking up one of the papers that were piled untidily on the floor. It was written all over in the Doctor's swirly native language which the TARDIS never saw fit to translate.

"They're coordinates. Of where I've determined the rift _isn't."_

"Why don't you write it in English?"

"Because there are no English words to describe time and space the way Time Lords see it. And that is an _extremely_ simplified answer to your question."

He was still being rather short and patronizing, and she was about to tell him off for it when he reached a hand up and rubbed his eyes wearily. For the first time she noticed how exhausted he looked. 

"Don't suppose you'll listen if I tell you to go to bed."

"You're not my mother."

"No, but if anyone needed someone to tell them what to do, it's you. How can you even think straight when you're so tired you can barely see?" She pursed her lips, and by the familiar set of her jaw he could tell she was winding up, ready to do battle with him. The Doctor grinned at the determined expression on her face. 

"All right, Pond," he gave in, raising his palms in surrender, "but don't think this means you're going to get me on some sleeping schedule- like that feeding schedule you're always fretting about." He took one last look at the spanner, then shook his head in resignation. "I'm about ready to give up on this little mission, anyway. I've searched and searched and I just can't find anything. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes even the TARDIS is wrong."

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 8

Of course the yarn he'd spun about needing to repair a rift was a lie. Well, it was most likely a lie. There _might_ be a rift, a breach, an open door, whatever you wanted to call it, and if so it would make his true mission simple. That would be fortunate. 

Unless you felt the way the Doctor did about it- to _now_ of all times be handed the way through the Void he'd once been desperate for- well, then it would be hugely, extremely, exceedingly unfortunate. The bitter irony alone would probably kill him.

What he'd said about the TARDIS being wrong at times was another lie. Unless this was the first time ever. He hoped she was wrong, mostly because of the afore-stated reason, but also because he always felt guilty when he'd lied to his friends, and he'd been doing too much of it already.

At least his admission to Amy was true. He was about ready to give up on this crazy idea. The only reason he'd put this much effort into it in the first place was because of the TARDIS' obvious insistence. But if there was indeed a first time for her to be wrong he supposed this would be it. She was asking the impossible from him; the _truly_ impossible, something he'd spent anguished months trying to accomplish after he'd first lost Rose at Canary Wharf. And the best he'd been able to do then was a two-minute message which had left them both heartbroken.

He'd given his all here though, he really had, and he was hoping the TARDIS would leave him (and his dreams) alone after this. But he couldn't deny that he was very, very relieved that despite all his efforts, he hadn't found a way through to the parallel earth. He'd said goodbye to Rose a long time ago and she belonged to someone else now; what earthly good could come from their meeting again? His hearts had once been nearly wrenched in two over her and healing had been slow in coming. He was more than half afraid seeing her again might finish the job. 

Besides, he and she had already had the best ending he could've realistically hoped for. She loved him and got her happily ever after with his human self. He, for his part, would never have to watch her die, never accidentally stumble upon her grave. To him, she would always be alive, young, beautiful, happy.

Happy. With another man. Yes, he wanted her to be happy, more than he cared about his own happiness by a long shot, but that didn't mean he needed to see it. See her with someone else, even if it was himself. And yet as relieved as he was to give up this idea of somehow getting through into Pete's World and lock away forever all these old feelings it had been dredging up, he couldn't deny that he was worried about Rose. She must be in trouble, and it couldn't be minor if the TARDIS was taking note. He smiled humorlessly. Even now, he couldn't say no when Rose needed help.

He wasn't surprised that the TARDIS was keeping an eye on his former companion. Rose was special, and ever since Bad Wolf the Doctor knew the TARDIS had viewed Rose as her own. And even if the sentient ship hadn't been able to keep her link with Rose, it certainly wasn't out of the question for her to have kept it with the meta-crisis. His body may have been part human, but his mind was full Time Lord. The Doctor had finally accepted that the dreams which had been so tormenting him were most likely not crafted by his own sub-conscious, but were rather an experience of his other self, telepathically projected into his mind by the TARDIS.

_"And you making me suffer through a repeat of it tonight isn't going to help anything,"_ he mentally warned the time-ship after he bid his goodnights to Amy and Rory. _"Amy's right, I can't think straight as it is, and if you put me through that again I'll be a complete sodding mess, probably incapable of getting us to the Earth in this universe, never mind another one."_

The first time he and Rose had ended up in the parallel world it had been an accident. The walls between universes were breaking down, partially due to Torchwood and their stupid experiments, and the TARDIS had pretty much fallen through one of these rifts. But after the events of the stolen planets and the stars going out were resolved, he had personally made certain that all the breaches were closed, repaired, and impenetrable. If he blindly attempted to force his way through now, those walls could shatter. And even if they didn't, the chances that he'd even end up in the right parallel were infinitesimal.

It hadn't always been impossible for Time Lords to travel to parallel universes. In fact, with a properly maintained and powered up vessel, the operators could enter any one of their choosing, provided they knew that universe's particular phase shift. But he didn't have _any_ of these necessary things. Since Gallifrey had gone, his TARDIS was patched up with parts he found on alien planets then altered to do the job required. Not to mention the fact that he was running completely off of scavenged fuel. The Eye of Harmony on Gallifrey had been the original power source of every TARDIS, but that too had disappeared along with his home planet. He didn't know if his old Type 40 could even survive the trip if he found a way through. He could very well end up stuck.

 

_"Stuck with you, that's not so bad."_

 

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of yet another unbidden memory. They were resurfacing far too often these days.

He'd been trying the ship's time-spanner, which was the only thing he could think of which might possibly show him a way through. The time-spanner allowed him to see the possible future or past of a certain time zone, but it was limited and unreliable. His hope was that if he examined the zone in which the battle of Canary Wharf had occurred, he might be able to locate the original rift and use the TARDIS to slip through, although if he did this now he would end up in Pete's World at the time just after Rose's arrival. He wasn't crazy about this idea; risking the timelines like that went against every base instinct he possessed. And even if he did get through without incident, he'd have to hide until he got the TARDIS running again, then pray that she'd be able to manage the short hop to Rose's current point in time. Needless to say, every part of this plan was beyond risky and riddled with holes. 

Not that it mattered at this point. Trying to locate the original rift had proved to be like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack. No, no it wasn't. That ridiculous earth idiom didn't even come close to describing the difficulty of it, especially if one had the simplest metal detector. Or a match. No, it was like, well, like trying to find a tiny tear somewhere in the wall of the entirety of the universe. What could possibly compare to that? 

The Doctor entered his bedroom, and quickly toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket and tie before climbing into bed. He gratefully closed his burning eyes, and felt sleep quickly overtaking him as his mind worked through these last few thoughts and filed them away. Yes, he decided with finality, tomorrow, after another perfunctory look, he'd be done with this, once and for all. 

He tried comforting himself with the fact that he was not the only Doctor available to help Rose. She had one, right there with her, whose only job of any importance was to keep her safe. His double should be able to handle that without help. But for some reason he couldn't logically explain, he didn't feel comforted. And even though he didn't dream, his sleep that night was still restless and uneasy.

 

******** 

Rory barely had time to pull in a quick breath as a powerful tug to his ankle yanked him deep under the water. The cool darkness enveloped him for a moment, filling his eyes and nose, before he was able to shake off the relentless iron grip and resurface, choking and coughing as he desperately tried to heave some air into his lungs.

Seconds later the ginger head of his wife surfaced beside him, also gasping for air, but only because she was laughing so hard. He'd thought she had tired of that little trick, but evidently she'd just been biding her time.

"I'm glad one of us is having fun this morning," he said as he tilted his head to the side, trying to drain the water from his ear.

She was still laughing. "Honestly, Rory, I don't even know how you fell for it again! Didn't you notice I'd disappeared?"

"No. Guess I checked out for a few minutes. I was just thinking."

"Yeah? Must be important. What're you thinking about?"

"Oh, just that as much fun as this is, playing around on the TARDIS and all, I'd far rather be working in the hospital this morning."

"Because I've dunked you four times? What a baby."

He laughed. "No. I love being a nurse, Amy. You know that. I have a point, a purpose, when I'm doing my job. Usually that's one of the things I like about traveling with the Doctor; getting to help people. But we've been stuck here in the ship for so long that I'm feeling a bit useless."

She looked at him, fun fading from her eyes. "I know what you mean. But Rory, I'm not sorry we came with him. He needs us here. I can't put my finger on it, but I just know there's something he's not telling us. Something big."

Rory shook his wet head noncommittally, scattering droplets of water over the surface of the pool and onto his wife. "I guess you never know with him. But still, I'd be more than happy to get home soon."

Amy nodded in agreement. "You and me both. But for now I'd settle for something to eat, yeah? You wanna see what's left in the kitchen and I'll see if I can pry the Doctor away from his precious scanner for a few minutes. He's been at it for hours already today."

"Brilliant." Rory turned and swam toward the broad stone steps with Amy following him closely. They climbed out of the pool together and grabbed their towels. Rory gave his body a cursory swipe, drying himself, then wrapped the towel around his waist. Amy was still wringing water from her hair.

"Don't forget to dry your feet off well," he reminded her, as he headed out the door. "Last time I forgot, and wet glass is about as slippery as it gets. I almost killed myself." 

Rory's feet were perfectly dry today, but that didn't prevent him from nearly meeting his demise for the second time in that very same hallway. Instead of slipping, though, this time he stumbled over something; something large and cold and definitely out of place in the swimming pool corridor. He lost his balance and pitched forward, gasping in pain as his knees and palms came into violent contact with the floor. After a stunned moment he gingerly crawled into a sitting position, trying out his limbs to make sure they were still functional, then looked back to see what had been left so thoughtlessly in his way.

Rory's mouth fell open in shock and he blinked a few times in rapid succession, trying to make sense of what was right before his eyes. 

Lying there, smack in the center of the floor as though it owned it, and gleaming coolly in the light, was the largest gun Rory had ever seen in his life.


	10. Chapter 9

_"Doctor!"_

Reflexively jerking up in alarm, the Doctor cursed as he whacked his head sharply against the underside of the main column. His head throbbed and he ran cautious fingers over his scalp, checking for any major injury, and flinched when he discovered a very tender area above his right ear. Why, oh why, was Amy yelling for him like that? He was trying to determine if she had sounded frightened or simply annoyed when he heard her call his name again, louder this time, and he mentally labeled her tone as _upset._ He felt rather put upon as he scrabbled against the slippery glass floor, trying to extricate himself from the tight quarters in which he'd been working.

He'd just managed to get to his feet when she burst into the room, breathless and obviously worked up, wearing nothing but a bikini and a towel she'd wrapped hastily around her shoulders. Rory appeared next, hobbling a bit. He too was clad in only a pair of swim trunks and carried a balled-up towel in his hands. The Doctor wondered briefly if something terrible had happened in the swimming pool, but they both looked fine for the most part. He felt another flash of irritation.

"What's going on, Pond? Why are you shouting for me like I'm your butler or something?" he said, fingering the sore spot on his head as he addressed the girl whose fault it was. "If you saw something in the pool you don't need to carry on so about it. They're just Chara fish; completely harmless, although I admit they may look rather frightening with the gigantic teeth and all. I had no choice but bring them on board because their natural habitat was so polluted-"

"I didn't come in here to talk to you about some stupid fish, Doctor," Amy interrupted him impatiently while Rory at the same time asked, with a bewildered look on his face, "You have _alien fish_ in your swimming pool?"

He didn't have time to respond to either of them before Amy marched over and grabbed the arm attached to the hand the Doctor was currently using to massage his scalp, then proceeded to drag him out of the room. "You need to come and see this," was all the explanation she was offering, and the unyielding grip she had on his forearm told him he was going whether he liked it or not. Rory followed wordlessly behind them as she expertly navigated the twisting corridors back to the pool area.

She stopped abruptly when they reached the appropriate hallway and finally let go of his arm. "I thought you didn't like guns," she said, as the three of them gazed upon the enormous piece of cold metal which couldn't be called by any other name.

The Doctor was completely silent, and after a few seconds Amy shifted slightly to look back at him, as he was still standing behind her. He was dazedly staring at the weapon, mouth slightly agape, and his complexion had gone absolutely ashen. She hadn't been sure what his reaction would be, had wondered if he had maybe even been the one who'd left the gun lying there, but it was easy to see that the Doctor was even more stunned than they were by its sudden appearance. She looked at Rory in confusion and he shrugged.

Suddenly the Doctor rounded on them angrily. "Where the _hell_ did you get this?" Accusation colored his voice dark and cold and his eyes even more so as he glowered at them.

Rory recoiled a bit but Amy was not intimidated. She met his stormy gaze squarely. "Don't you dare accuse us. Rory almost broke his leg falling over that thing. It wasn't there when we went into the pool and it was when we came out. Why do you even have a gun like that on your ship when you hate them so much?"

The two of them stared one another down for a few more seconds, then the Doctor's face softened slightly. He walked over to the object in question, then squatted down beside it, running a careful finger down its length. "It's not mine," he answered finally without looking at them. "It belonged to a friend."

Amy was utterly disbelieving. "You were friends with a person who carried an enormous gun around? And you allowed them to bring it on the TARDIS?"

"Yes. They...well, she, didn't carry it all the time. Just once. It was necessary." 

His voice had taken on a rather far-away quality as his traitorous mind conjured up the memory of Rose carrying that gun. Her hair had glimmered golden, her skin ethereal under the streetlights as she smiled at him; an angel on the wrecked street. That smile, so uniquely hers, it alone had the power to bring the light back into his dark existence, and seeing it there so unexpectedly- real, alive, and _only for him-_ it floored him. Overpowered him. His body reacted without conscious thought and he'd run flat-out to meet her as joy, pure and intoxicating, coursed through every fiber of his being. 

Completely overriding his common sense. 

"But why do you still have it? Sentimental reasons?" Amy was aiming for sarcastic but the Doctor didn't notice this at all as he shook himself out of his reverie.

"Yes, I suppose." He heaved the massive weapon up from the floor by its strap and slung it over his shoulder. "But the real question is, why did the TARDIS decide to put it here of all places? I don't even remember where I stored this last." 

Actually, the last time he remembered laying eyes on the gun was on one of the best and worst days of his life. He had never had so many friends travel with him before, and they were all celebrating an astounding victory together. But one by one, they all abandoned him, and by the time night fell he had returned to his ship alone, broken and distraught. He noticed the gun right off as he entered; still on the jump seat where Rose had hurriedly dumped it in panic after he'd been shot by the Dalek. The visible reminder of her very real presence on his ship just hours earlier had been so incredibly painful that he'd immediately snatched up the weapon and stored it away out of sight, but was unable to actually get rid of the thing. It was hers.

Now the gun's heavy weight against his back had the Doctor's mind processing madly. There had to be a reason for his ship to remind him of its presence, but what could it be? Did she think if he saw a possession of Rose's he'd be motivated to keep trying to find a way through the wall? No. Ridiculous. That couldn't be it. The TARDIS had to know that could backfire. 

He chuckled to himself over the unintended pun. 

The Ponds frowned at each other, bemused. "You're acting even weirder than usual today," Amy remarked, and when the Doctor looked her way blankly she could tell he didn't really see her. 

"Yes, weird, right," he parroted as his sagacious mind ticked onward, inventing theories and discarding them at a mad rate. "Weird day, weird gun, weird Doctor," he muttered absently. "Weird idea." His eyes had begun to take on a rather feverish gleam and he poked Rory in the chest with his index finger. "No, not a weird idea. A _brilliant_ idea." 

He pivoted suddenly and rapidly took off toward the control room with his usual ungainly stride, gun banging away against his back, and disappeared round the corner before Amy and Rory could make any sense of what had just happened. Not that there was any sense to _be_ made of it.

 

********

 

It just might work. There was no guarantee that they wouldn't all be killed in the attempt, but at least they'd end up in the right place. Probably. _Okay, that's not exactly comforting,_ thought the Doctor, as he carefully placed the gun inside the ship's psycho-telemeter.

It had to be the reason for the gun. It was the only item he knew of on the time-ship that had originated in the alternate universe. Rose's universe. She had brought it with her when she travelled here using the Dimension Cannon. And if the TARDIS herself was suggesting the gun was valuable in this unbelievable scheme he had to have some faith that it might actually work.

The Psycho-Telemetric Circuit acted as a homing device of sorts. Its purpose was to determine the planet of origin of any given item, then automatically navigate the TARDIS to that planet. He hadn't used it for a long time, hundreds of years probably. In fact, the last time he remembered using it he'd been in his third body, and things hadn't turned out quite as he'd expected. 

But he'd never thought of using it to travel to a planet located in another dimension. Not that the desire had ever arisen before. The idea itself was almost too simple, and though the actual implementation still carried some risk he didn't think it would put either universe in jeopardy since the Telemeter worked by creating a wormhole from the Vortex directly to their destination. It certainly wasn't a perfect scheme, but it had to be a whole lot better than trying to blindly force his way through the void. More like purposeful drilling to create a small hole in a piece of glass, versus attempting to achieve the same result by pitching a rock at it.

For the first time he noticed that the Ponds hadn't followed him back to the console room, and he figured they'd gone to their room to clean up and change. He _had_ abandoned them rather suddenly, and no doubt they were frustrated with him. The Doctor sat down on the captain's chair and tented his fingers under his chin, debating briefly over whether or not he should once again try and force them to go home before he attempted to follow through on this daft plan. It would be a huge fight, he knew. Amy's suspicions would be on red-alert once again after the events of the morning; he'd most likely have to try and physically drag her off the ship. He smiled in spite of the serious situation as he imagined actually attempting that. The odds were not in his favor for coming off as the winner. Regardless, he had to admit there was also a very large part of him that just plain didn't want to do this alone, selfish as that might be. 

He got up and fiddled with the settings, making certain he had the telemeter configured correctly, then painstakingly adjusted the navigational levers and knobs on the center console while he waited for Rory and Amy to emerge from their bedroom. This was far too dangerous a flight for his friends to be anywhere but in the control room with him, properly secured near the heart of the TARDIS.

Though he was busy, making sure everything on his pieced-together ship was in proper working order, it felt like hours had passed before he finally heard them coming. He kept his back toward the Ponds as they entered the control room, concealing his face as his hearts began a swift beat of anxiety. 

Dimly, he heard something that sounded like his own voice calmly ask them to take a seat, then explain that they were about to exit the Vortex and it might be a bumpier ride than usual. He threw in a few complicated, spacey-wacey terms, like high Mocca turbulance rating, for good measure. They didn't even question him, but he didn't expect they would. They were probably afraid he'd change his mind. 

He was afraid he _wouldn't._

Most determinedly _not_ thinking of anything beyond the immediate moment, his body moved on auto-pilot around the console as he put the TARDIS in flight. Lastly, he activated the special circuit that would supposedly help him cheat for the win in this game; would create the loophole through which he could avoid being penalized for breaking the very laws of time and space. 

Feeling almost disembodied, as though he was just a passive spectator watching his actions from above, he slowly stretched out his hand for the Dematerialization switch- the last link in a chain which could hang them all.

He held his breath, then flipped it.


	11. Chapter 10

It was so blindingly dark inside the ship that the Doctor had no idea where the smoke was coming from. Thick, black, and choking, it was rapidly threatening to suffocate the three unlucky passengers before they had a moment to even get their bearings.

_"Extractor fans!"_ he gasped out from where he lay face-down on the floor, not even trying to lift his head. He prayed for the fans to work, being too disoriented to even think of attempting to find the door, much less help his friends to do so. But at least the TARDIS was no longer moving; their violent tumble from the Vortex having come to a jarring halt. 

Eerie silence reigned, and the Doctor mentally counted the seconds until he finally heard the fans click on and gradually build up speed, beginning to clear the smoke from the air. Profoundly relieved, he drew a deep, grateful breath and strained his ears to hear something, anything, from the Ponds, but he could hear nothing apart from the roar of the fans. Finding out if they were alright was definitely at the top of his priority list.

Groaning, the Doctor made his first attempt to move from his sprawled out position on the floor. He was bruised and sore, and his muscles put up a dogged protest as the Doctor placed his palms under his chest and slowly began to push himself upright. Once successful on getting to hands and knees, he tried lifting his head, and immediately felt nauseous as the room began to do a quick pirouette. Still, he gradually managed to get into a sitting position, bent almost double over his lap, and shut his eyes tightly until the dizziness subsided a bit. 

The smoke had mostly cleared by now, and the emergency lights, by some miracle, were actually working, bathing the room in a dim yellow light. Squinting through one eye, the Doctor could make out the forms of both Amy and Rory on the opposite side of the room. Rory was uninjured enough to have crawled over his wife, and was hunched over her, stroking her cheek with his fingertips. The Doctor tried his best to call out to him, but his throat was so dry from the smoke that it became a severe fit of coughing. 

However, this was enough to get Rory's attention. He lifted his head and looked over at the Doctor, then nodded to indicate that both he and his wife were okay. It was only then that the Doctor realized how very terrified he'd been that they _weren't,_ and he slumped back in relief, the last of his energy draining away. They were okay. And they'd landed. Somewhere, anyway. 

 

********

 

"...Amy, I really think he's fine. Look, you can see he's breathing, remember, and his pulse rate really doesn't tell me anything. It just feels weird, okay? I _know_ he's got two hearts. Yes, they're beating, but there's no way I would know if there was something wrong."

"Move over so I can check."

"I really don't think-"

The voices dimly registered in the Doctor's awareness, sounding almost as if they were spoken underwater. He opened his eyes with difficulty and then suddenly came fully conscious. Bolting upright, he frantically took in his surroundings. He was still on the TARDIS. Amy and Rory were sitting next to him, wearing matching worried expressions.

Was someone holding his hand? He looked down. Yes, someone was, his wrist anyway. Rory.

Rory's fingertips clung as the Doctor raised his arm, not saying anything, pointedly looking at his friend's fingers with an expression that was equal parts wondering and irritated.

Rory hurriedly released him. "Sorry. You were unconscious; I'm a nurse, so..." The expression on the Doctor's face wasn't improving, so Rory shut his mouth and waited for the Doctor to sarcastically inquire where he had gotten his degree in Time Lord physiology. To his surprise, the Doctor just sighed heavily, thanked him, then asked if he and Amy were alright.

"We're fine," Amy assured the Doctor. "Not so sure about the TARDIS though."

They looked together to the dark and silent Time Rotor. Still, the Doctor thought, it wasn't as bad as the first time he'd crossed the Void. That time the TARDIS had been so near death the only thing which could possibly get her going again was a Gallifreyan power source- himself, or his regeneration energy, to be specific. 

But now the emergency systems were still functioning, which was a very good sign. He hoped that meant the cloaking system was up as well. If it wasn't, and they had indeed landed in the parallel earth, he would have no way of hiding his presence from his duplicate. He wanted _that_ encounter to happen only when he was good and ready for it, and on his own terms. And first on the list of his terms was a working TARDIS, so he could make an immediate escape if he wanted to. 

The urge to run was already making itself known, if he was honest, and he hadn't even ventured to look outside yet. 

Speaking of outside...

The Doctor surveyed his friends distrustfully. "Neither of you has left the TARDIS while I wasn't looking, have you?" he asked, a bit more sharply than he intended. "Remember you promised me you wouldn't!"

Amy gave him an injured look. "Been a bit busy, taking care of you and all. Why can't you ask before you start accusing?"

The Doctor felt guilty. "Right. Sorry. Of course you didn't."

Rory raised an eyebrow at his wife. "And the door is locked. Isn't it, dear?"

The look Amy shot her husband was so dirty the Doctor couldn't prevent his lips twitching into a smile, which caused his upcoming reprimand to lose most of its effectiveness. "That's because the emergency systems are engaged. Right now the TARDIS is unable to tell us if where we've landed is habitable, with breathable air. It's for _our protection._ The outside atmosphere could be mostly carbon monoxide, or perhaps it's so hot your skin would've burned instantly, or a myriad of other things that could kill a fragile human. Remember that next time, Pond."

She smiled cockily and saluted him. "Yes, sir. So how are you going to find out where we are, then?"

The Doctor just stared at her as he got to his feet. "I'm going to go and look. I know how to unlock the door, of course."

Of course. She should've known. Amy didn't bother dignifying that with a response. 

Unceremoniously pulling the door open, the Doctor stepped out into the murky night air. It was cool, but not cold, and smelt vaguely of summer. And a few other, less savory things, thanks to the bins standing nearby. The TARDIS had apparently rematerialized in an alley, but the Doctor was grateful for that in spite of the smell, glad for any help he could get in avoiding discovery. 

Even though it was late and the alley completely unlit, the feel of the alternate London was instantly recognizable. It was similar to the pulse and hum of the London he'd spent so much time in, but it was definitely not the same. The flavor was off, somehow. And even beyond that, there was always the queer feeling, deep in his gut, that he didn't belong here; not just because this wasn't his home universe, but more like the uncanny sensation of being an extra piece forced into a puzzle that was already complete without him. 

He didn't even bother looking upwards for the telltale lights of Zeppelins floating overhead before stepping back into his sanctuary and tightly latching the door behind him.

Well, he'd done it. He'd succeeded once again in accomplishing the impossible, but this time he felt none of the thrill that usually came along with it.

His companions were awaiting him eagerly. "It must be safe, then?" questioned Amy. "Do you know where we are?"

_Safe?_ he thought. _Safe in what way?_ Safe in that they were not under imminent attack? Yes, as far as he knew. Safe in that they'd landed in a habitable environment? Absolutely. 

Yet this was very likely one of the most dangerous places he'd ever been.

"Yes, it's safe." He ignored her second question.

"What're we standing around for, then? Let's go! It's been hours since we landed and I can't wait to get off this ship."

The Doctor set his prominent chin stubbornly. "No."

"Why not? You just said it was fine."

"It's nighttime here. And I can't accompany you right now. It is of utmost importance that I get the TARDIS back in working order. Besides, we've landed on one of the most boring planets imaginable. You won't like it. It won't take long for me to get the ship up and running and then I'll take you somewhere much better."

Amy's chin was set as stubbornly as the Doctor's. "If it's boring then you don't need to worry about Rory and I going out alone."

"It's not just that; though if there is trouble to be found here you're sure to end up in the middle of it. The two of you have just had a good knock about the TARDIS, and before I let you out of my sight I need to be sure you're not more seriously injured than you may seem to be right now." 

The Doctor's voice had taken on an almost pleading tone that Amy had rarely heard from him. It was this that caused her to momentarily relent, far more than any of the rather weak arguments he was presenting.

"All right," she agreed slowly, much to the Doctor and Rory's surprise. "I'm a bit tired right now, anyway." And she _was_ quite sore, as well, but they didn't need to know that. "I'm going to bed, but if we're still here in the morning Rory and I are going exploring, right Rory?"

There would be no stopping her and both men knew it. Rory had nothing to lose and everything to gain by instant agreement to her statement. "Right. Exploring. On a nice boring planet."

The Doctor sighed. Someday, maybe, he would have a face that people would actually listen to.

 

********

 

"I feel almost as if we've stepped 'Through the Looking Glass,'" remarked Rory, as he picked through a row of classic book titles. Giving a short bark of incredulous laughter, he pulled an aging hardcover from the shelf it had been stored on. "No, wait, make that _'Into the Mirror World'."_ He held the book up so his wife could see it. Her eyes widened.

"How fitting that they should get that title wrong, too!" Amy laughed. "It's perfect, Rory. This place may not be quite as strange as _Wonderland,_ but it does have that sort of feel, doesn't it? Maybe we shouldn't get anything to eat here. We might end up three inches tall." They grinned at each other.

"Maybe, but it's worth the risk," said Rory. "If we return to the TARDIS, I have a feeling that the Doctor won't let us leave again. And I, for one, am definitely not tired of exploring this city. I know we've seen far stranger, more alien things, but there's just something fun about the fact that this is an alien planet on which they've tried to recreate _our London._ Yeah, they've gotten a few things wrong, but all in all it's so accurate that a person couldn't tell the difference if they didn't pay attention."

"As long as they don't look up, anyway," smirked Amy, as she crouched down to look at the books on a lower shelf.

Rory grimaced. "Oh yeah, I forgot about all those Zeppelins. I wonder how they got that part so wrong?"

"Maybe they didn't get it wrong. This is an alien planet after all. Maybe the atmosphere's different, or maybe they never figured out the technology involved in building airplanes. Remind me to ask the Doctor when we get back. He probably knows, or if he doesn't he'll make up something believable."

"Or it's his fault," Rory added.

His wife nodded vigorously in agreement as they continued browsing in the charming little used-book store. It was nearing noontime and the sun was high in a soft blue sky that looked remarkably like the sky on their own home planet. Aside from being littered with fat, floating Zeppelins, anyway. 

It had only been a few short hours since they'd finally, finally been allowed to leave the TARDIS. The Doctor had put up surprisingly little resistance when they'd appeared in the Control Room that morning, dressed for the day and carrying coats, obviously ready to do some exploring. He simply informed them that they could leave the jackets behind, since it appeared to be summer on this planet- which was called, of all extraordinary things, the _United Kingdom,_ and that the city they had crash-landed in was called _London._ Amy and Rory had gaped at him as he, somewhat reluctantly it seemed, gave them a short history of the planet, in which figured a humanoid race who had visited Earth and was so enthralled with Britain that they recreated it back home. 

But it was still an alien planet; how like Earth could it possibly be? So on stepping out of the time-ship and exiting the alley, the Ponds had not been prepared for this place to be such a _perfect replica_ of the city near their native heath. Yet not.

"Oh, _Pride and Prejudice_ is still called _'First Impressions'_ here!" squealed Amy, hugging the book to herself. "I love it! This place is so _not_ boring!" She dug through her pocket and came up with a handful of local currency, which she had obtained as spoils through a hard-fought battle with the Doctor. 

He'd claimed that he had no money for them to spend, which Amy directly sniffed out as a sort of last-ditch effort to prevent them from leaving, or at least keep them from being out for long. Without even blinking, Amy indicated he should go sonic a local cash-point, or else she'd take his sonic away from him and do it herself. The Doctor knew full well she wasn't playing, so he contented himself with glaring at her, and then petulantly shoved his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket to pull out the psychic paper. After handing it over begrudgingly, he told her a cash-machine would scan it just fine, and that she could keep her little threats to herself, thank you very much.

Amy and Rory had obtained the needed funds without incident, and now she paid for her book with a few of the strange purplish bills. After the very human-looking clerk handed the book back in a sunny yellow bag, Amy searched out her husband, finding him peering at titles in a row of medical literature. 

"Come along, Tweedledum," she said, kissing his thin cheek fondly before grabbing him by the hand. "Let's find out what the people of this planet think London cuisine is like. But we should probably avoid the mushrooms." 

 

********

 

As the Ponds headed out to continue their giddy, lighthearted explorations, they hadn't a care in the world. 

They didn't know that the same could _not_ be said of the friend they'd left behind.

The one who was now scrambling to come up with some sort of a plan- not an easy task with no working resources, save his sonic screwdriver and his uneasy, muddled mind. 

The one who, if truthful, found this place to be far more _terrifying_ than _boring._

The one who was nearly as desperate to have this whole thing over with as he was to somehow keep his most painful secret just that- a secret.

He didn't know how he was going to pull it all off.

********

The part none of them knew about? Their arrival hadn't gone unnoticed. 

Just a few short miles away, _someone_ had immediately detected it, and had instantly panicked, even though he was normally one of the most self-assured of creatures. 

And by this time, dread had also seized his recently singular heart, because, despite many hours of pacing and theorizing, he could just not figure out how _anything_ might have broken through the Void last night, gaining such unlawful entry into the universe he now called his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has read, commented, or left kudos! I really appreciate the encouragement! 
> 
> And now I ask you to buckle your seat belts and place your trays in their upright and locked positions- we are about to experience some turbulence! 
> 
> Up next- a view from the OTHER side....


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the Ponds play and the Doctor frets, we'll take this opportunity to check out the flip side. :)

As she stretched and leaned back in her cushy desk chair, Rose Tyler felt not the smallest trace of guilt as she abandoned every pretense of doing paperwork. She swiveled around to take in the still unfamiliar sights outside the enormous plate-glass window, and thought idly to herself that this- the view- was the only thing she truly enjoyed about her new office at Torchwood. It really was a remarkably gorgeous view, all river and treetops and glassy skyscrapers, from so high up that she couldn't see anything of the streets below and the people on them without getting up from her comfy seat. Pity that the window was _behind_ her desk. 

She'd made an attempt to correct this glaring design flaw by trying to rearrange the furniture a few days earlier when she'd first moved in here, but no matter how hard she tried, the gigantic metal monster of a desk had stubbornly refused to budge even an inch from where it had been placed on the carpet. Rose, sweaty and frustrated, eventually gave it up as a lost cause, mentally labelling as an idiot the person who had set up the office this way in the first place- well, either an idiot or a workaholic who didn't want to be distracted. She steadfastly ignored the fact that she herself also deserved some sort of label for being too stubborn to ask for help in fixing the problem.

So the desk stayed where it was, stupidly placed in the room so that all Rose could see when she looked up from her computer were boring white walls interrupted only by two metal filing cabinets, and the door between them which didn't even have a window in it. 

Fortunately, Rose was something of an expert on making the most of less than ideal situations. Once facing the window, she kicked off her tall spiky heels and pressed her toes comfortably against the sun-heated glass, sinking even lower in the chair. It was early afternoon, and the sun shone in, giving Rose really no choice but to sleepily close her eyes against its brightness and warmth.

Utterly content and completely relaxed, she was just beginning to drift off when the door of her office was hit by something akin to a small explosion, causing it to fly open and _CLANG!_ violently against one of the filing cabinets. Gasping in alarm (which directly became indignation), poor Rose flew up from her chair, spinning round to see just who had so rudely interrupted her intended catnap.

Rose was certain she had put on her most intimidating glare when she met the wild eyes of her friend and fellow Torchwood agent, the spiky-haired Jake Simmonds, but he didn't notice her anger as he was apparently in the middle of a rage of his own. 

"Where is he?" he demanded, red faced, his eyes flashing as they darted about to speedily search the room. Not seeing him, whoever 'he' was, Jake marched over and looked behind her desk, then jerked the closet door open without even asking permission as Rose spluttered in confusion. Finding it empty save for the boxes she hadn't yet bothered unpacking, he kicked the closet door shut with far more force than necessary and turned back to Rose, scowling fiercely. Not finding who he was looking for had not helped Jake's mood any. 

"I tell you Rose, if that husband of yours keeps this up Torchwood isn't going to be one of his safe-houses anymore, because I'm going to kill him myself," he informed her heatedly.

She must've been sleepy to not have known immediately that the Doctor was involved in whatever had Jake so thoroughly worked up. Rose quirked her mouth into half a smile.

"Not funny, Jake. Honestly, though, what'd he do now? I haven't seen him at all since we came in." It had been before seven, since the Doctor for some reason had been chomping at the bit to get to work that morning. More than six hours ago, she thought to herself. He could do a lot of damage, left alone for that amount of time. She should have checked up on him before now.

Jake gestured impatiently. "Can't you hear it?"

Rose frowned. Of course she could, now that she was paying attention. The door to her office hadn't relatched properly after Jake's abrupt entrance so there was really nothing to muffle the sound of the alarms shrilly sounding up and down the corridor. A security breach; and it must a fairly significant one for the alarms to be going off even all the way up on this floor. Adding to the cacophony was the thundering of booted feet running toward the stairwells and lifts; Torchwood agents setting up guard against any human or alien invader who might be trying to reach this level of the building where all the most important people had their offices. 

"Maybe it really is a security breach," she said calmly. "Why are you assuming it the Doctor caused it?"

Jake scoffed. "Are you serious? Of course it was him. He's bored- you know what he's been like! I wouldn't be surprised if he did this on purpose, just to have a little excitement in his day. And now the whole flippin' building's in lockdown and who has to go and sort this mess? Me!" 

"I'm sorry for you, but I don't think he'd do something like this just for fun."

Jake gave Rose a long look, entirely unconvinced. "Okay, so let's say it was an accident then. It was still him. He's up to something; I have no doubt. Did you know he was down on level one this morning, Rose? I saw him with my own eyes. I-"

At the words 'level one' Rose bit her lip and tuned Jake out. Level one was the sub-basement, sometimes known as the Dungeon, where the prisons were; where the most dangerous aliens were kept until Torchwood was able to figure out what to do with them. The Doctor _hated_ level one. He barely tolerated its existence even as a necessary evil. Normally he avoided the place at all costs, not just because he disapproved of it, but for many other more serious reasons. Rose alone was aware of every single one of those reasons and now she began to be a little bit scared. Nothing short of 'very, very, bad' would be able to induce him to go down there.

"...but the alarm was initially set off on level four, which really tells me it was him. He loves level four. Always says he's there to help sort through the backlog of alien artifacts, but of course way more stuff goes missing than ever gets tagged and put away."

"But he has security clearance for level four, Jake. It's on his ID card."

Jake stared at Rose as if she'd grown two heads all of a sudden. "Of course he does; about the only person who has higher security clearance than he does is your dad! The problem is that the git never uses his card to scan in to an area anymore. Always uses that stupid bloody screwdriver to bypass the system. Who knows why?"

Jake thought he knew and began pacing the room, ticking off his fingers. "He probably gets a kick out of fooling the system for one thing, second, I know he hates being tracked. The guys in security up on nine are always complaining about him shutting their cameras down if he has to stand near one for more than five seconds."

Rose didn't reply as she picked up her mobile from the desk and pushed auto-dial. Not one syllable of what Jake had just said was news to her. The Doctor had been using his sonic screwdriver to bypass security from the day he'd started working at Torchwood, although Rose had to admit he'd been much more selective and discreet about it in the past. But compared with everything that had turned their lives so completely upside down as of late, his increased lack of following company protocol hardly seemed worth fussing about. 

_"Hello! You've reached Doctor Smith. Please lea"-_ Rose ended the call without bothering to listen to the rest of the tinny greeting (which she could have recited in her sleep). The Doctor never checked his voicemail. He also rarely answered his phone, so Rose wasn't too worried when he didn't pick up now. He _had_ been a lot better about keeping it on his person lately but there was nothing she could do about the fact that he just plain didn't hear it when something else had absorbed his attention. She shot off a quick text message- _"please call me ASAP love"_ -and marveled at how a man whose entire world had recently been narrowed down to a total of two buildings was still so difficult to keep track of.

While Rose was attempting to ring the Doctor, Jake had given her office door a shove so that the latch clicked tightly, significantly dulling the sound of the uproar taking place in the corridor. The relative quiet calmed him down a bit and he meandered over to her desk, absently picking up the one personal item she had in the space- a framed photo of herself and the Doctor, dressed up and smiling, taken at the last Vitex gala. 

It was just a simple snap of their lives from back when everything had been normal. Her mum loved to immortalize every family event with her camera and Rose had many, many pictures of the two of them taken over the course of the few years they had been together here. But it was this photo in particular that helped keep her going lately, helped her remember that their present circumstances- her unwanted new office, his frustration, their shared lack of freedom- were temporary. They'd reached a new level of understanding the night it was taken, and every time Rose looked at the photo, seeing the Doctor's eyes nearly free of guilt and her own smile lacking every trace of bitterness, she was firmly determined that they would have that life back again.

Jake turned the light wood frame over in his hands, lightly rubbing his thumb back and forth across its edge as he perched on the top of Rose's desk, watching her with a hesitant expression in his hazel eyes.

"Rose."

"Yes, Jake?"

He was silent for a few seconds as he turned away from her slightly to set the picture frame back on her desk, then he hopped down and headed toward the door. 

"Never mind," he said, waving a hand in dismissal. "It's stupid. I better set about getting things back to normal around here." He was already turning the knob but Rose stepped quickly and stopped him with a hand on his upper arm.

"Just say it."

"I said it was stupid."

"Please."

Jake blew out a breath. "Is there any chance he could have taken off again?" He spoke rapidly; if he was being forced to say this then he wasn't going to chance being interrupted. "Thing is, I left notice for security to alert me to his whereabouts as soon as anybody saw him and I haven't heard anything yet. Then you couldn't get him on the phone just now and I thought that maybe-"

"He's here."

"Are you certain? Because if we need to get a team together to go after him-"

"I'm sure, Jake. You can go and do what you need to do. I'll find the Doctor. I might even let you know where he is if you promise to be nice to him." 

Rose's voice had taken on a decided edge and Jake wisely dropped the discussion, much as he thought she was deluding herself. The only thing predictable about the Doctor's behavior lately was his unpredictability, and although Jake knew he had promised his wife he wouldn't take off again without telling her, he had broken that very same promise before when he thought he had good enough reason to do. The repercussions of _that_ incident had been severe, in more ways than one, and it certainly wasn't something Jake wanted to see repeated any time soon. Or ever. But hey, if Rose had faith in the Doctor, who was he to argue?

"Be _nice_ to him? Asking a bit much, aren't ya?" Jake grinned at her, but it disappeared from his face in a flash as he opened the door. The bedlam hadn't abated in the slightest. Wryly, he looked back at Rose one more time.

"Yeah, maybe you better not tell me when you find him."

 

********

 

There had never been many people who knew the Doctor well, and here in his new life on an alternate version of Earth the current list was short indeed. Jake Simmonds, Pete Tyler, Jackie. Maybe little Tony someday. He did truly like a number of his co-workers, but he knew many (though unaware of his alien origins) still stood in some awe of him, even though he had tried his level best to be friendly with them. This bothered him more than he would admit; he had always liked people, and even though his ego may have enjoyed a bit of awe, he far preferred casual, comfortable interactions with others. 

Unfortunately, his reputation had preceded him at Torchwood, and from the day he first walked through its doors with Rose he had been celebrated as savior of the universe, and regarded by most of his colleagues as some kind of pre-eminent being. It had grown tiresome quickly but there was nothing he could do about it, aside from RetCon-ing the whole lot so they would forget who he was entirely. Too drastic. But at least they didn't salute him.

His having so few real friends was especially ironic when considering how nearly everyone on the planet knew his name. (Well, his often assumed and more recently, legal name, Dr. John Smith.) He wasn't at all happy about this, but it was hard to remain invisible once one becomes a tabloid favorite. 

Of course, the Doctor was no stranger to having experienced varying levels of fame throughout his long life, but this was very, very different. He couldn't just take off in the TARDIS and escape it, for one thing. And unlike before, it now felt completely unwarranted. This world was fascinated by him, but not because he was their universe's first and only (mostly) alien time traveler, not because he was phenomenally clever, nor even because he'd saved many lives. 

It was because he was considered to be the luckiest man in Great Britain. He couldn't argue with that, of course, though he would never comprehend why it had commanded so many headlines. 

_"Vitex Heiress Dating Mystery Man!"_

_"Rose Tyler Weds in Secret Ceremony After Whirlwind 3-Month Romance!"_

Three years later they were still a subject of much interest and adoration, which frustrated the Doctor to no end. He was the Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds, had more than once shocked even the most hardened of Torchwood's agents with his ability to take on and conquer (sometimes single-handedly) the most vicious of alien threats- but when it came to preventing odd, slightly stupid humans from coming out of nowhere to take his or Rose's picture, he'd proven completely incompetent.

He'd been trying to get used to, or at least ignore, this strange (and uniquely human) phenomenon, but had finally reached his limit when the Inquisitor ran a photo of him on its cover- taken as he was coming out of the supermarket- with some inane caption about how amazing it was that he'd done the shopping. In all his years of traveling the universe he'd seen many lower lifeforms with inexplicable habits and asinine customs, but _this-_ this took the cake, and he finally gave in to what Jackie had been nagging about for months and began to hire out some of their errands. 

Rose, who had always been human and therefore possessed a better understanding of these things, realized that part of the craziness could be blamed on the simple fact that they were far more private than most celebrities, and therefore far more mysterious and fascinating. The latest rumor swirling about in the media had their long absence from the public eye being due to a secret pregnancy; a rumor which annoyed Jackie Tyler to no end. But only because it _wasn't_ true. 

 

The list of people who knew him well would be much longer, of course, if he added to it all the friends he'd had in the past. But no matter who he added, there was really only one person in two universes he could think of who truly knew him, complexities and darkness and madness and all, and still loved him anyway. Only one person he trusted, fully and completely. His Rose. She had made him better, and he loved her more than he had thought he was capable of loving anyone. And now, he was determined to spend the one life he had left making sure she was safe, sure she was happy. 

For her part, Rose had made it abundantly clear, long before their life together here had begun, that all she had ever wanted was for her Doctor to be safe. Even though he could see the importance of this now more than he ever had before, it was still difficult for him to place such a high value on his own life. However, he _did_ place a very high value on Rose's happiness, so he'd solemnly promised her that he would do his best in this regard. 

It was a promise that had been ridiculously hard to keep lately. 

And as of last night, it had just gotten a little bit harder. The Doctor stared moodily through his specs at the heavy, clunky device which was still sitting on the table he had rolled it into his lab on, trying to determine if it was a loose wire or maybe just an incorrect calibration which was causing the thing to malfunction. He pulled the right side panel open for the second time and scanned the connections with the sonic, just to be sure he hadn't missed something. Everything seemed to be in order and he impatiently flipped the power switch back and forth to see if the stubborn thing would turn on. 

It didn't. 

He cursed under his breath and was seriously considering giving it a good hard kick when the numerous overhead lights in his lab flashed on all at once, creating a most effective distraction. He automatically put a hand over his eyes to shield them from the unexpected brightness and whirled around, peering painfully through a crack between his fingers to try and make out just who exactly was trying to blind him. 

Slight build, blonde hair. His wife. Smiling genuinely for the first time in hours, he lowered his hand, still squinting mightily, and once it occurred to Rose that he was in pain she flipped the lights off with hasty fingers. The room was again swamped in a hazy darkness, the only illumination coming from one small window and a lamp on the Doctor's desk.

"Headache again today?" she questioned as she approached him, concern shadowing her pretty face.

"Yeah, but not too bad. You know I can see just fine without all those lights on anyway. Superior eyesight, me," he said loftily, wagging his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, is that right?" Her tone was unreadable as she came closer and toyed with his swirly blue tie for a moment, tugging on it to draw him closer as she tilted her face up to his. There was a mischievous sparkle in her dark brown eyes that commanded his full attention.

"Then tell me, please, oh _superior_ one," she continued, her hand now becoming the object of his fascination as she slowly ran it up his chest, "exactly..."

the hand continued its delightful journey 

"why..." 

Here she paused all movement, and the Doctor realized too late that the glint in her eye had resembled that of a cat eyeing its prey.

_"...youwearthese!"_

This last came out in a breathless rush as the hand she was so pleasantly trailing up his shirtfront turned on him and snatched the glasses off his face in a lightning-fast maneuver. Before the Doctor could register this shocking move she'd already darted halfway across the room, prize in hand. Rose doubled over in laughter when she looked back and saw him gaping at her with an expression of mock outrage.

His own gaze turned predatory. "Oh, Rose Tyler, I think you know exactly why." 

He advanced on her and she twirled the glasses by one stem, taunting him, then ducked to hide behind his whiteboard, still giggling furiously. He smirked as he evaluated his attack options. Rapidly deciding on 'direct', he dashed around the back of the board as fast as he could, catching hold of his squealing wife from behind as she tried to crawl under it to escape him.

Grabbing her tightly around the waist and pulling her close, he breathed in her ear threateningly. "Tell me why I wear them." 

"No!"

He wiggled his fingers against her rib cage and she shrieked. _"Say it,_ or I unleash my superior Time Lord tickling skills upon you!"

She thrashed around, trying and failing to free herself from his grasp. As he hauled her around so that she was facing him she took advantage, snaking a hand under his suit jacket to try and tickle him first, but he grabbed her wrist and trapped it with fingers of steel. "None of that, miss. Last chance!" They were both hysterical with laughter as the Doctor slowly dug the fingertips of his free hand into her ribs again, preparing to make good on his threat.

"Alright, alright," she gasped, giving in. "I know why!"

"Because you think they look..." he prompted, lips quirked as he yanked her up against him, his mouth a breath away from hers. They both stopped laughing when she met his eyes, ready to give him the answer he so dearly loved hearing. 

_"Sexy."_

At that he closed the tiny distance between them and kissed her in whole-hearted approval of her answer, and Rose felt as if she won their little game after all.

After a few seconds Rose broke the kiss, leaning back slightly, but content to remain in his arms. "Jake's looking for you," she said, looking up at him.

He was watching her lips intently but her words didn't register at all. "Mmm?"

"Doctor."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know why?" She ducked her head, forcing him to make eye contact.

He sighed. "What am I supposed to know?"

"Why Jake is looking for you. And why he's mad."

"No idea. When isn't Jake mad?" He bent and attempted to kiss her again, but Rose evaded him and his lips landed on her cheek instead. He made a small sound of indignant protest. 

She laughed softly while he pulled back and stared at her in bewilderment. "You really don't know, do you?"

"No, I really don't. I don't know why you are so insistent we discuss the varying, or in this case, mostly unvarying, moods of Jake Simmonds, who is not here in this lab, mind you, exposing us to said bad mood, when we could be _discussing_ something far more interesting." 

The Doctor arched an eyebrow at her suggestively, pulling her closer. Rose shook her head in exasperation, but she could never help smiling at him when he got like this.

"Try and think. Please."

Blowing out a breath, the Doctor ran a hand through his already wild hair and took a small step back from his wife. "Alright, I give up. Jake is upset about something, which he obviously shared with you, and the fact that he shared it with you and you are now down here sharing it with me tells me that it is somehow my fault. What I do not understand is why he sent you to tell me instead of just coming himself." 

He sniffed long-sufferingly and peered down at his wife. "Not that I wish for Jake to be here right now instead of you, of course. Would've been even _less_ snogging going on."

Rose laughed and rolled her eyes at his one-track mind. "He was trying to find you. He thought you'd be in my office. In the closet, apparently." Rose stifled a laugh at the Doctor's gobsmacked expression.

"Are you serious? Why would I be in there?" 

"He was convinced you were hiding from him. But I knew better, yeah? Came straight here." She smiled knowingly at him, tongue touching her teeth, while the Doctor stood there staring at her in complete bafflement.

Knowing the Doctor as well as she did, Rose had had absolutely no trouble in finding him straightaway. Not that Jake was wrong in his belief that the Doctor was the culprit in the security fiasco; in fact Rose herself had been fairly certain her husband was at fault. Where Jake had gone wrong was that he had grossly over-estimated the amount of guilt he thought the Doctor would be feeling and therefore went searching for a man who would be hiding away from his wrongdoing. Rose, on the other hand, figured that her single-minded alien had obtained whatever it was he had desired from the vault, so she went searching for a man who had nothing on his conscience- but was in possession of a new toy which would need examination and probably some jiggery-pokery. Where else would such a man be but in his lab? 

Her suspicions had been confirmed when she had walked into that laboratory a few minutes ago and sure enough- there he was, prodding and sonicking away on his latest acquisition. She gestured toward it now with an outstretched hand; a big metal boxlike structure, looking rather like an old tube-television. But it was most definitely not a television. Unless it was an alien one. 

"So, what're you working on over there? You didn't by any chance get it out of one of the vaults on level four, did you?"

Understanding immediately washed across his face, mixed with the slightest amount of guilt. "Yeah. I set off the alarm, didn't I? Forgot about that. I was, wellll, quite anxious to get that thing down here." He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. "I suppose Jake would be rather upset about that."

"Said he was going to kill you."

The Doctor liked that. He grinned widely. "Well, that would be fitting, wouldn't it? Nearly one thousand years worth of people trying to kill me only to be done in by a rather small, over-gelled human." He rubbed his left eye with one finger, smile fading a bit. "Well, I'll apologize to him. It was entirely accidental, you know. I was in a hurry and got a bit careless with the sonic."

"You do have a card on you, remember, that actually allows you to take whatever you want out of the vaults without the risk of setting off an alarm." Rose said this in jest, expecting him to reply with, _'yeah, but where's the fun in that?'_ She would agree with him and they'd laugh together and then maybe he'd kiss her again.

She was not expecting to see his face darken when he glanced back over at his ill-gotten device, or the deadly seriousness of his eyes as he turned back to her.

"About that. We need to talk."


	13. Chapter 12

_"About that. We need to talk."_

 

The Doctor used to lie. Quite often, and for many reasons. Sometimes he still did, but not to Rose. Never to Rose. Not anymore, after one of his lies had nearly gotten him killed and almost destroyed their relationship. Whatever happened now, they were in it together. She had to know about this.

He took Rose's hand and led her over to the table where the device was resting, still silent and dark. She looked up at him wonderingly.

"Do you know what this thing is?"

She scrunched her face up, thinking hard. "Not particularly. It must be dangerous, yeah, especially if it was stored in a vault?"

"Well, it is dangerous, but not to us. Not in the way you're thinking anyway. But I can't get it working, Rose, and I _need_ it to work. You have no idea."

"You're scaring me."

He placed his palm on her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. "I'm sorry. But I'm a bit scared myself at the moment." He swallowed, then put his hand into his jacket pocket, reaching impossibly deep, and pulled out a small object- a metal tube-shaped thing with a strip of lights all down one of its sides. All of the lights were flashing and it was vibrating slightly. Rose felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Do you remember this?"

How could she forget? He'd shown it to her for the first time only a few weeks ago, on the night when they'd decided no more secrets. Had explained to her precisely what it was for, that he'd built it almost immediately after his arrival in this universe, and the terrifying reason why he kept it in his pocket at all times. 

"It's your Void breach detector," she responded finally, looking at him with fear in her eyes. "Why is it flashing?" 

She asked the question, but she already knew why.

He answered her anyway. "Because something has come. From out of the Void."

 

******** 

 

Halfway across town, another Time Lord was having similar frustrations with a very different piece of machinery. Well, the TARDIS was actually far from being a piece of machinery, and normally anyone she heard calling her that would get a zap from the next surface they touched.

But the Doctor hadn't been zapped, or tripped, or had his seat taken out from under him and he'd said it at least fifteen times in the last hour, usually preceded by the word _bloody_ (or something even ruder). 

This had him very worried indeed.

Down in Power Room 4, he turned on the last of the emergency quantum field generators and this time was rewarded by a faint humming sound. Immediately off and running through the dark corridors back to the console room, he whooped for joy when he saw that the Time Rotor, though still unmoving, was now dimly lit and so was the rest of the console. 

He knew that recovery time was likely more responsible for this improvement rather than anything he'd actually done, but he couldn't have cared less as he plopped down on the chair in front of the monitor and flipped the switch. The screen glowed a dull blue for a few seconds and he impatiently smacked the side of it, grinning widely when it flashed and then showed a perfect view of the alley outside. It was working!

The signal wasn't strong enough for him to do any kind of extended search with it yet, but it would be. He could wait.

Soon the ship would also have enough power for him to call Amy. Or if need be, scan for her and Rory's unique energy signature, since they were now covered in Void stuff. He felt a smidgen of guilt at the thought, especially since it reminded him of the several other people on this planet who were also covered in the stuff, thanks to him. He shook it off. It wouldn't hurt them, not unless he had to open another gaping hole into the Void, and he didn't see that happening anytime soon. It did hinder his scanning capabilities for the time being- he didn't really want to use the method to try and find Amy and end up with one Jackie Tyler on his hands. Anyway, he wasn't too worried about the Ponds, not really, not yet, since it was still early afternoon. 

Still, he wouldn't mind being reassured that they were alright.

He had plenty of other things to worry about without worrying about the Ponds too.

Like the prospect of having to search out and actually speak with his other self. That was the least he was going to have to do, now that he was here. Find him, drag him back to the TARDIS, give him whatever he needed to solve their problem, swear him to secrecy, then hightail it back to his own universe immediately thereafter. Preferably without Rose ever even hearing about his presence or involvement. 

At least his double had a biological signature like none other. It would make it easy to track him down. There was absolutely no way he was going anywhere near Torchwood, or the Tyler estate, for that matter. He smiled as he imagined himself snatching his unwitting meta-crisis off the street, like a Mob boss tracking a snitch, shoving him into backseat of a car and hauling him off for _questioning._ He had a feeling that was how the other Doctor was going to see the whole thing anyway, no matter how he handled it.

In fact, if he were him, (and he used to be, so he should know) this whole thing would be his worst nightmare.

Pushing aside such ideas for the time being, the Doctor turned his attention back to the monitor and noticed there was now enough power to tap into the internet. He should really do some investigating, he thought, and at least do a search on Rose's name to try and see if he could gain a bit more insight into what he might be dealing with. Her family was well-known here, thanks to Pete, and perhaps whatever was going on had even made the news. 

He started typing her name but then froze as a thought struck him. Because not even the TARDIS would filter out the pertinent articles about her from the _personal_ ones, and he just wasn't ready to deal with that yet. It was hard enough getting used to the idea of being within reach of her for the first time in more years than he cared to think about, yet knowing she was just as off-limits as she'd always been.

_Probably._

Balling his fists tightly, he shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the unbidden thought, but it had set up camp and utterly refused to be budged. Oh, he knew better than to let himself hope, he was an absolute _idiot,_ but it was there anyway. A tiny hot spark which, if he was honest, had appeared long before he'd found the gun, and had grown exponentially since he'd landed here. A stubborn, burning, persistent little _what if._

Once he'd finally recognized and accepted that the TARDIS wanted him to return to this universe, he'd focused all his thought and effort onto just that- the cold, concrete mechanics of _getting here._ He'd been telling himself not to dwell on what would happen next, not to think about _what if_ he actually succeeded, or else he'd never be able to make himself carry it out.

With sudden but perfect clarity he realized that he'd been lying to himself all along. That _'what if'_ would never have kept him from coming here, despite its likelihood of bringing nothing but disappointment and heartbreak. Truth was, the pinprick of hope contained in those two little words had meant that nothing could have _stopped_ him.

Now he was here. In Rose's universe. 

And she needed him, apparently.

He wasn't sure if he should be terrified or exhilarated by that thought.

 

******** 

 

It was that time of day, early afternoon, when time is slow and the very air feels thick and drowsy. Amy was getting tired. And maybe just the teensiest bit bored. After a lunch which was completely uneventful (except for Amy's experience with a popular local drink she'd tried, called _Vitex,_ which ended up being a flavorless horrid greenish concoction) they'd strolled until finding themselves in the midst of London's West End. Of course there was more than enough to see and do, with it being the theatre district, but all in all it was very similar as the same part of the city in their London and Amy and Rory had been many times. It just wasn't at all alienish or even very weird. 

So she may admit to being a bit tired and bored, but again, there was good reason for that. She was absolutely not cranky. 

Rory was sorry he'd suggested it.

"This London is definitely dirtier than ours, and that's saying something. I mean, seriously, why would someone just throw this on the ground when there are rubbish bins everywhere?" she complained, kicking at a fast food bag that a sudden gust of wind had sent directly across their path. Rory watched it as it skittered a few feet away and caught against the wall of the brick building to their right, looking entirely at home with the various wrappers and papers and odd soda can which had also taken up residence there.

"Why don't you pick it up, then? You know, do your part." Rory was tired too. 

She looked him in disbelief. "This isn't even our planet, Rory!" as if that explained everything. "How are the people here going to learn to clean up after themselves if a bunch of alien strangers are always coming in and doing it for them?"

Rory didn't figure that was likely much of a problem but thought he'd better start keeping his comments to himself.

"And I wonder what all these signs about a midnight curfew are all about? Think the crime is that bad or is it an oppressive government trying to control everyone's lives? I mean, what if later on we decide we want to go to-" she craned her neck around, searching for an example, "that club over there, the _Cyber Club,_ " waving a blue-polished fingertip toward an exceedingly seedy-looking place across the street, complete with frightening-looking men lurking about the entrance. "Will we be arrested if we simply lose track of time and come out a bit too late? Tell me that's not oppression!"

"You do realize that place looks more dangerous than some of the alien prisons we've been in, right?"

She huffed an irritated breath in Rory's general direction. "That's not the point, moron! Like I said, it's oppression! If the Doctor was here he'd want to do something about it!"

Again, Rory seriously doubted the validity of that statement but recognized a way to change the subject when he saw one. "Speaking of, why do you think he was so keen on staying in the TARDIS instead of coming with us today? He seemed worried enough last night about us going out alone, but this morning we were barely out the door before he practically slammed it shut behind us. You think he's still hiding something?"

Amy didn't answer, simply shrugging as they continued walking, but she did tighten her grip on Rory's hand. He glanced down at her face and saw that it was drawn and pensive, all the fire having left her. Rory frowned at this and was seriously considering bringing up the alleged governmental oppression again when a large signboard, done up rather plainly in muted blacks and grays, unexpectedly caught his eye.

It was just one of those theatre/music venue placards, sitting unobtrusively on the side of the pavement, and being in the West End they'd passed several of them already without paying much attention. However, Rory was beyond glad this one had caught his eye.

"You're kidding me!" he exclaimed, pulling on Amy's hand as he came to an abrupt halt. "Can this possibly be right?"

She blinked confusedly as she looked down to where he was pointing. Then gasped, wide eyed, as she beheld a very familiar face.

 

******** 

 

Rose watched in silence as her Doctor carefully clamped thick black wires from what looked like a car battery to the metal knobs on the back side of the device. A bio-scanner, he'd said it was. From a Kratan airship. Not as sophisticated as the one in the TARDIS by far, couldn't scan an entire planet in minutes like that one could. But plenty good enough for what he needed it to do.

Her eyes had long since grown used to the darkness in the lab, but as she stood there Rose felt a growing desire to run across the room and flip every single one of the overhead lights on. Like she was a little child with the firm belief that the brightness a few lights was all that was necessary to protect her from the monsters. She shivered and stepped closer to her husband, close as she could get without actually touching him, and drew comfort from his proximity and warmth and the air of confidence he always exuded in even the most dire of situations. And then stepped away, feeling silly and more than a little angry with herself. She needed to get a grip!

"There we are!" the Doctor said, finishing his task and stepping back, seemingly unaware of Rose's inner turmoil. Good. "Maybe all it needs is a good charging up. This thing looks like it's quite old actually, a few decades at least, probably been a while since it's been used," he said. His voice was casual but Rose caught him watching her worriedly from the corner of his eye. Maybe not so unaware then. She leaned against his arm and smiled up at him.

"I'm okay. I'll be better when you get that thing working." She backed up to the battered sofa residing against the wall behind them and sat on it heavily, snuggling under the Doctor's arm when he joined her seconds later. "So why was it hiding away in a vault if it isn't dangerous? S'only a bio-scanner. Probably would've been useful before now."

The Doctor sighed, and Rose knew he'd been hoping she wouldn't ask about that.

"Yeah, a bit too useful, I'm afraid," he said slowly. "Rose, you know how I feel about Torchwood, and I agree that here it has been a better organization than the one in our old universe. But you also know that I feel it has been a bit heavy-handed at times in the way it has treated peaceful travelers who were simply looking for a safe place to live. If Torchwood knew that they possessed a piece of equipment that could instantly give them the real-time location of every sentient being not native to this planet-"

"They'd track them all down and process them," she concluded softly. He looked at her fully then and she met his surprised brown eyes. "It's policy. But you just want them to be left in peace. I know you think I'd take Torchwood's side on that, but I don't. I know what it's like, well as you do, to be an alien not on my native planet. And I see it your way. M'glad you hid it."

He tightened his arm around her and pressed his lips against her hair. 

"But I'm not glad you didn't tell me about the Void breach detector going off right away when it happened. You should've woken me up, Doctor! We could have been working on this together today. You promised to stop hiding things from me."

He made a regretful noise. "I'm sorry, Rose. When it went off last night I was shocked, to say the least. I built the thing as a precaution, since this universe has had more than its fair share of trouble with breaches and rifts and the like, but I never thought anything would ever actually happen. And then I started calculating the actual probabilities for lack of anything else I could do about it at the moment, and they were so low that I started hoping the thing was just malfunctioning. I didn't want to worry you over nothing."

"Do you think it's malfunctioning? Really?"

He swallowed and looked at the floor. "No, I don't," he said quietly. "But I was hoping. I'm still hoping, to be honest. I haven't proof of anything yet. The first thing I did when we arrived this morning was go down to the Dungeon with the old 3D glasses to see if any of the aliens brought in last night had Void stuff on them. None did, obviously. But I'll know for sure once that scanner is up and running. It should find only ten people on this planet who have the energy signature that only crossing the Void can give, and any number it finds above that is, well, a problem."

"You have any idea how we're gonna deal with that problem?" 

At one time that question would have been accompanied by a huge grin, but today Rose couldn't quite manage it. A possible Cyberman/Dalek invasion was never anything to joke about, and made even the recent nearly successful attempts on her husband's life pale in comparison. They'd dealt with this before, sure, but now they had no TARDIS. If he were gravely injured he couldn't regenerate. One chance at a life together, and it seemed like no matter what universe they were in, it conspired against them. Was determined to separate them. It just wasn't fair.

It seemed as if he could read the melancholy turn of her thoughts, because suddenly cool fingers were under her chin and his compassionate dark eyes sought out her anxious ones.

"We'll always be alright, you and me," he said, echoing her words to him from so long ago. "Soon as I figure out what we're dealing with, we'll come up with a plan. We're the Doctor and Rose, remember? Stuff of legends." He grinned broadly, but his eyes were tired, and Rose knew he was trying to convince himself as much as her.


	14. Chapter 13

Amelia Pond was not generally known as an easy girl to impress, and Rory's innumerable attempts to win her admiration over the years had met with varying degrees of success. Now all he'd done was notice a sign and here she was, gazing at him as though he'd hung the moon. He'd never figure her out.

Since beggars can't be choosers, Rory decided to take the credit, as though he'd actually been the one to convince the two lead members of her favorite band not to break up. 

Well, who said he hadn't been? Or, perhaps more accurately, wouldn't be? Stranger things had happened.

Amy Pond was not often known to get over-excited either, but when she did it was a beautiful sight to behold. All rosy pink cheeks and sparkling eyes, she now was clutching Rory's arms and hopping up and down in her short brown boots, practically squealing in excitement. Rory thought she was adorable. Many passersby obviously did too, judging by the several warm looks and small indulgent smiles she received. 

"A Smiths concert, Rory! The Smiths! I never, ever thought I'd get a chance to go to a Smiths concert! I take back everything bad I said about this planet! It must be a lovely place if Morrissey and Johnny Marr are still friends!

She released him only to dance over and scrutinize the poster in the venue's window.

"It's really them," she said in wonderment. "Not young them, like they looked back in 1985, but the way they look now, on Earth." Brow furrowed, she turned back to Rory. "But how can that be? I mean, I understand how on this planet they can copy things from Earth, like books and films and even the city structure, but how can they copy people? 

"I dunno, think maybe it's an interstellar reunion tour?"

"You know it's not. We've both heard the Doctor tell us a million times that Earth won't achieve interplanetary travel for at least another century."

Abandoning hope that she'd accept his first suggestion, Rory now hesitantly offered what he thought was a more likely explanation. "A cover band, possibly?"

Amy visibly deflated. "More like probably, isn't it?" she said, turning back to the poster, squinting as she inspected it more closely. "But I'm so sure it's them in this picture. Yet... I guess that doesn't prove they're actually the ones playing tonight." She turned back to her husband, eyebrows raised. "Well, guess there's only one way to find out! By asking." 

The box office window was half a block further down and Rory wasn't certain they'd even be open this early in the afternoon as he tagged along behind his wife. She quickly arrived at the closed glass window, and without hesitation pressed her face up against it, peering inside as she draped her long body over the sill. 

"Hey!" She called loudly to someone visible only to her, pounding the side of her fist against the glass. "I have a question! Hello!"

From where he was standing, behind Amy and off a bit to the side, Rory watched in amusement as she left off banging and resorted to glaring at a person he still couldn't see. After a few seconds the window slowly slid open to reveal a heavy, red-faced man in his mid-forties, who had the air of a person life has conspired against. Actually he was the closest to alien as they'd seen yet on this trip, vaguely resembling the pig-like inhabitants of Phy with his tiny glittering eyes and snub nose. He'd fit the role of club bouncer (or perhaps prison inmate) far better than ticket agent for an exclusive venue.

Despite his rather unsavory appearance, Amy didn't shift back even slightly from her hunched over position in the window. "The sign says the Smiths are playing tonight at 8. Is it really them or is it a cover band?"

The man stared at her blankly. "A wha'?"

"A cover band. You know, band breaks up, but people still love them, so a few musicians get together and play their songs and if they sound enough like the real thing it'll sell tickets. To people who aren't true fans, anyway."

"That's illegal, miss. Impersonation. Ya oughta know that. And this is the Regal Theatre," he said, squaring his shoulders and sounding as if she'd personally insulted him by asking such a question.

"So it's really the Smiths?" Amy was smiling at the man fondly now, like he was her new best friend. "Well, I want two tickets, please!"

His red face flushed even further, if that was possible. "We ain't open yet," he said, sounding slightly apologetic. Amy opened her mouth to argue with him and he sidled back into the protective darkness. "'Sides, show's sold out for tonight."

He was probably glad of the tiny bit of extra distance when a look of extreme displeasure crossed her face. Rory was really hoping she wouldn't fit through the window.

"How can you be sold out? It's a standing-room only venue, isn't it? Surely it can fit two more people?"

"Not up to me. Fire codes an' all."

"Well, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Where's your boss?"

"Manager's not in till six, miss. You can come back then, if ya want. Won't make a difference though." 

He was backing away into the darkness, eyeing Amy in grave concern as she proved that her shoulders did indeed fit through the window. Rory thought it best to interfere at this point and put a hand on her back, silently urging her to come away. She shot the ticket agent one last death glare and allowed her husband to remove her from the tiny opening.

Once the window was closed and they'd moved well beyond earshot Rory stopped, grasped Amy's upper arms and turned her to face him. She was too busy pouting to notice that his eyes were twinkling. "Doesn't matter about them being sold out, you know," he said, his smile full of mischief. "We're going to that concert tonight." 

Her pouty look transformed immediately into one of interest with a bit of confusion thrown in, obviously wondering what her straight-laced husband could possibly be suggesting. 

"C'mon, dear! The Doctor may not be here but if there's one thing we've learned from him it's how to crash a party, right?" Realization dawned in her eyes and they looked at each other, laughing as they spoke in unison.

"Psychic paper!"

 

********

 

It's two hours later and as much as Rose doesn't want to be away from the Doctor right now she's accomplishing absolutely nothing by sitting in his lab. She knew that having to wait for the scanner to charge up before trying to use it was torturous for him, and while she sat there on the sofa to keep him company he was dealing with the stress the way he usually did- by tinkering. 

First he'd checked over his Void breach detector with the sonic for what she suspected was the hundredth time since last night, and when he still didn't find anything wrong with the detector he decided that perhaps there was something wrong with the sonic screwdriver itself. Rose knew this was ridiculous and what's more, she knew he knew it, but still. It was keeping him busy and his mind occupied. And Rose would accomplish even less today if she had to spend the rest of the afternoon trailing along behind a restless, stressed-out Doctor, trying to keep him out of trouble.

"Well, at least there's one good thing about this sonic only having fifteen-hundred settings, instead of over three-thousand like my last one. When it acts up it doesn't take as long to figure out what's wrong." 

Rose smirked. His words suggest that he is saying something positive but this is really an old complaint, one she's heard a thousand times if she has once. When they'd been left behind on that beach, the Doctor had had his pockets full of items of varying usefulness, but no sonic screwdriver. It hadn't taken him long to cobble one together, but a sonic screwdriver created from Earth resources and some nicked alien tech would never be as good as one made by the TARDIS. 

"When your old sonic went wrong, it probably took you days an' days to fix it then, yeah?" she replied innocently to his back. 

"Ah, but Rose, that's just it! It didn't, because my other sonic never-" he paused, then scowled when he turned around and saw her amused expression. "You're winding me up."

Getting up from the couch, Rose stepped up to him and kissed the scowl from his lips. "Sorry, but it's too easy. Anyway, love, you don't need my help with that, and I really need to get back to my office for awhile. Got tons of work to catch up on, and if I don't finish that report on why Eric was injured in the last Weevil incident I'll have Hinkel on my back again."

But he'd apparently stopped listening after 'I need to get back to my office' and turned big, sad brown eyes on her. "What? You're just going to abandon me all by myself down here?"

"What do you want me to do, Doctor?" she said crossly. "Sit here and watch in awe and wonderment while you tinker with the sonic?" 

The Doctor grinned down at her, a very familiar, very hopeful look in his eye.

"What am I saying?" Rose asked herself, correctly interpreting the look. "Of course you do. But I think you'll be just fine for a couple hours," she said and patted his arm comfortingly. "Just don't go setting off any more alarms or anything today, alright?"

He still looked as though he wanted to argue with her, and Rose smiled inwardly when he heaved a long-suffering sigh and agreed. "Alright. Just make sure you come back in a couple of hours. I'll be here."

"Okay. I'll see you soon then. Love you." 

"I love you too."

Rose regretfully headed for the exit, wondering if she would ever _not_ feel a toe-curling thrill at hearing those words fall so easily from his lips. But before she could reach the door, it opened and Jake entered the Doctor's lab. He still looked tense, but nowhere near the state of agitation he was in earlier in the day.

"Jakey-boy!" the Doctor greeted him cheerily from across the room, probably hoping this would delay Rose's departure.

"Don't 'Jakey-boy' me," the smaller man replied, but without heat. "I have a major bone to pick with you."

"So I've heard," replied the Doctor, scratching at a sideburn uncomfortably but still looking far more self-possessed than Jake would've liked. "Please accept my sincerest apologies for the extra trouble I caused you today. My only excuse is that I was in a slight panic at the time. I badly needed something out of one of the vaults, and since I don't want Torchwood knowing about it I couldn't use my card, now could I?"

Jake's only response was a slight tilt of the head and raising of eyebrows.

The Doctor shifted defensively. "What? Me apologizing to you is not that unbelievable!"

"No, but you are never this forthcoming with information. Which makes me think you want something."

At this accusation the Doctor pursed his lips, but his expression was otherwise unwavering. "Doesn't mean I'm not sorry."

"Oh ho!" Jake crowed. "I knew it! Only you would think you can apologize to someone and then ask them for a favor in the same bloody sentence. It doesn't work like that, you know. Do you realize how many things you still owe me for? Aside from today? There's the incident with the Pathka, for example. That was over three months ago, and Hinkel still won't accept my explanation as to how _three_ company Jeeps ended up so thoroughly destroyed. Or even just last week when Rose was home sick and you forgot-"

"Oi! I get it, Jake! I said I was sorry that I set off the stupid alarms! But forgive me if I don't take the time to go on bended knee when we have a possible Void breach on our hands!"

Jake stilled instantly and Rose shot the Doctor a reproachful look. 

He flinched guiltily. "Sorry. I didn't mean to just blurt that out. I don't actually know for sure yet, Jake. Could be nothing. So why don't you pull up a chair and stay awhile? We've got some catching up to do." The Doctor looked over at Rose, silently imploring her to stay as well, and she nodded resignedly.

"I'll stand, thanks," replied Jake. "For some reason the possibility of another Cyber invasion makes it a bit tough to relax. Isn't all this supposed to be over and done since -other you- went back to his universe? Dimensional re-close or whatever?"

"Dimensional retro-closure." 

The Doctor was pacing restlessly and Rose could see he was unsure how to begin his explanation. She twined her fingers with his and finally he stopped moving. "The dimensional gaps have been closed, yes, but the walls of this universe had already been irreparably damaged... well, I say irreparably. That's not quite true. The walls are irreparable only because there's no one to repair them. In our original universe, that was one of the duties of a Time Lord."

"But you're a-"

"Yes, and I could do it, even being part-human as I am, but I don't have a TARDIS. It's kind of like if you need to fix an old broken-down wall in your house but none of the supplies you need exist on Earth. Oh, and the house itself is on an unreachable mountain peak."

"Okay, okay, I get the point."

"Anyway, the wall is damaged. As in there are still holes. Not all the way through to the other universe, mind you, my counterpart did his job and fully repaired things on that side. But there are still openings into the Void."

Jake sucked a breath through his teeth. "The Void. As in the happy home of millions of Daleks and Cybermen."

"Yep. So when Rose and I first came here, I could... well, sense this. And I dealt with it in the only way I could. I built an alarm, of sorts. A detector. To tell me if anything breached the walls of this universe. Obviously, it's gone off, or I wouldn't be telling you this little tale."

"And what, Doctor, is the _other_ reason you're telling me this little tale? What do you want me to do? Seems like we should be preparing a team to mobilize."

Rose had been wondering about this as well. It was not the Doctor's usual _modus operandi_ to give out so much information before he had any real answers himself, and the fact that he'd said nothing yet about involving Torchwood was making her a bit anxious. Surely he wasn't thinking that he-

Meandering over to the other side of the lab, the Doctor avoided Jake's question and his wife's eyes as he laid his hand flat on the bio-scanner. It looked rather pitiful at the moment, all hooked up as though it were on life support. But before he could begin explaining to his friend why the contraption would be worth all the trouble it had caused he noticed it was warm, and even vibrating slightly.

"Power! Rose, we've got power! Ha!"

Hurriedly shoving his brainy specs on his nose, he crouched down in front of the machine and without hesitation began twisting the biggest dial while Rose rushed to peer over his shoulder. Jake joined them next, looking confused. The readings on the screen were in some sort of alien language which looked like gibberish to Rose and Jake, but the Doctor's eyes skimmed over it, expertly translating the display while he simultaneously programmed the machine to the setting he wanted.

"Right-o then, here we go! Now, as I'm using the scanner to search for a specific bio-signature, I'll need to have it first analyze one of you so it knows precisely what to look for."

"Excuse me, but what _'precisely'_ is it searching for, again?" said Jake, sounding edgy. "Humans who'd like to smack you?"

Rose giggled and the Doctor grinned, turning the fully-functional device in the direction of his irritated friend. He pushed a button and the screen went blue before flashing brightly in Jake's eyes. 

"What the- " he snapped, screwing his eyes shut and rubbing them with his fingers.

The Doctor continued grinning maddeningly but didn't answer him as the screen quickly began displaying readouts. He spent half a second reading before he hummed in satisfaction and then, without even glancing at the keypad, began pushing buttons so fast it looked random, looking just like a small child who's gotten hold of a mobile phone.

When he was satisfied he fiddled with the main dial again, stepping back as the screen changed and began to display a map of their current location. Nine glowing red dots and one pink one were displayed prominently in the middle of the map, all clustered together.

"Look, that's us!" declared the Doctor, pointing to the dots. "The three of us, the five agents who also crossed over, and your dad, Rose." 

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if he felt a headache coming on. "Not sure why I'm asking this since it doesn't seem like you're capable of answering questions at the moment, but why is one dot a different color?" 

"That's me," replied the Doctor in his _I'm being extremely patient_ voice, distractedly messing with the screen's contrast.

Now Jake was sure of the headache. He hated the patient voice. "And you just thought you'd look better in pink?"

Rose took pity on Jake, intervening as the screen darkened. "You haven't really explained what you're doing, Doctor."

That got his attention. "Didn't I? I'm sorry, Rose." He sat back in his chair, directing his gaze to Jake and his wife. "Since I used Jake as the control the scanner is searching specifically for human, plus Void stuff. That's what the red dots are. However, I reprogrammed it to exclude human-only, for obvious reasons, leaving Void stuff as the common denominator since that's what we're really looking for. I show up since I meet the main criteria, but as a different color since I don't meet _full_ criteria. Keeping up?"

They nodded and the Doctor looked back to the screen as it displayed a new image, of a larger area, but with the same nine dots. A few seconds later a tenth dot appeared, in red, showing up a few inches away from the others. 

"And there's your mum, Rose. Where's she at, the shopping center _again?"_ the Doctor wondered aloud. "I swear that woman spends half her life and half your father's salary out buying posh clothes, and what is she wearing every time we're over at the mansion?" He leaned in close to his wife's ear. "One of the _same two track suits,"_ he revealed in a loud conspiratorial whisper, shooting a scandalized look past her at Jake, who chuckled.

Rose kicked the Doctor gently, laughing, and he grinned. "Shush, now. She wears the posh clothes out and you know it."

The screen darkened again.

"Why's it keep doing that?" asked Rose.

"It's continually recalibrating to scan a larger area," said the Doctor absently as it came back online. "Looks like it scans about 5 more kilometers in each direction every time, more or less."

The expanded image cleared and recalibrated several more times, each time showing the same ten dots as it previously had. They'd just begun to relax a bit when, abruptly, two more dots appeared, on the far west side of the city. Rose gasped and Jake worriedly pushed his finger up against the screen.

His voice was quiet. "And who are they, then?"

"They," replied the Doctor, slowly, "are a problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fully apologize for my 'shameless Smiths self-indulgence. I do not, however, apologize for my frankly magnificent alliteration. :)


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone is waiting for Rose and her Doctor to find the Ponds, and I promise that is coming in the next chapter! But first, you need to know why Rose is very unhappy about the Doctor going ANYWHERE, and why the TARDIS may have tortured her favorite pilot into coming to this universe. So please forgive me for making you wait, you lovely readers you!

_"They," replied the Doctor, slowly, "are a problem."_

 

********

Rose wasn't quite sure how to feel. She was scared, no doubt, but these results had added a healthy dose of confusion to the mix. Of course they'd been hoping the scans would turn up nothing, and the two extra dots were a problem. But then again, they were only two, not the dozens or more she'd so been dreading.

But two made no sense. And the fact that the dots were red made even less. How could they possibly be human?

So far the Doctor was offering no theories, silently watching the screen as it continued to scan, recalibrate, and scan again as the minutes ticked by. Rose spied on him from the corner of her eye, trying to get a read on what he was thinking. He was never this still. Even in sleep he somehow managed to give off a vague impression of barely contained energy, and so its absence in him now left Rose feeling anything but tranquil. 

Even Jake was beginning to feel that the silence had become a bit heavy when the Doctor suddenly placed both palms on the edge of the table and shoved his chair back, popping up off of it like he was a tightly coiled spring just released. 

He yanked his glasses off and shoved them into the inner coat pocket of his blue pinstriped jacket. 

"Well, this isn't so bad now is it?" 

Rubbing his hands together, the Doctor sounded entirely unconcerned. "They're definitely not Daleks," he continued, "which is very good news. Their biology is human, so, well, I guess they could be Cybers, possibly. But!" He held up a finger and began to pace, and these were signs Rose and Jake knew well. His unstoppable gob was apparently about to go on a roll. 

"There's only two! So just a small problem; hardly the invasion I was expecting. Definitely can't call this an invasion. What would be the correct term? An...annoyance, perhaps?" His cheery smile and tone told them he obviously equated _annoyance_ with sunshine and rainbows and holidays.  
"An irritation? Doesn't really matter, we'll probably take care of the problem before I can think of the right name for it; it's so small. Anyway, there's just the two and since we've got an idea of their general vicinity we should really make a plan and deal with this now before we lose them. Yes?"

This was met with two incredulous stares.

"I am assuming the 'we' who is formulating the plan is not the same 'we' who is implementing it," said Rose, with no trace of humor.

The Doctor was silent for a moment, faux-cheerfulness fading as he carefully considered his next words. "Who do you think the 'we' should be, then? Torchwood? Because there's no way that's going to happen." 

Uh oh. Jake knew that tone. He didn't hear the Doctor use it often, and hardly ever with Rose, but it always meant the same thing. Discussion over. Trying to argue with him now would be like trying to argue with a concrete slab.

But Rose was getting out of her chair, and with interest Jake noted the look of utter determination on her face as she stared down her husband. Doing a good job of it too, he thought, even though the Doctor was nearly a head taller than she. She was bringing a jackhammer to this fight. 

"Oh, really? So you think that you're gonna be the one to just swan out there in the open, no one but Jake and I to back you, and risk your life again because of an unknown threat that a few agents _who are not us_ are more than capable of handling?"

The Doctor scrubbed a hand through his hair and tried to stay calm, not wanting to turn this into an out and out fight. "I understand why you're worried, Rose, and I'm sorry, but I don't see that as an option. For example, how exactly are we going to present this to Torchwood?" 

He turned away from her and started miming a conversation with an invisible group. "Fellow agents, we need a team dispatched immediately. Threat in the theatre district. Two humans, with Void stuff, identifiable by use of 3D glasses, need to be brought in for questioning. What's that? You won't dispatch a team without knowing more about this supposed threat? Like _why_ these two unknown little humans are so threatening? Alright, then, here it is- I strongly believe they crawled out of the Void into our universe. There's no possible way for me to know this, unless I admit that I'm an alien, with powers you've never heard of, even with all the species you've dealt with. Like the ability to control time, and see in different dimensions."

Rose had said nothing through all of this, but her body language had become a bit less rigid. She didn't like it, but at least she was listening.

He faced her and softened his tone, willing her to understand. "Then Torchwood says, 'Well, Doctor, now that we know you're an alien, we have no choice but to process you, perhaps imprison you since you've been lying to us.'" _And we'll also imprison your wife and implicate Pete Tyler,_ he thought but didn't voice. 

"And you both know what they start with. Telepathic assessment. What do you think Torchwood will do when they find out I'm approximately 35 times more powerful a telepath than any such kind they've catalogued yet?"

_"Doctor!"_ Rose hissed, casting a horrified glance at Jake.

But the Doctor was unrepentant. "I see him. I trust Jake, and right now I also need him to understand why it is crucial that we, as in the _three of us,_ carry out this plan without involving anyone else."

Rose bit her lip, still unsure how to respond to this, and Jake was totally distracted from the current issue by this rather stunning revelation. "So if you're that powerful a telepath, and those Ganglies have been able to control _your_ mind, does that mean that they're even more powerful yet?" he asked, and when the Doctor and Rose gave each other a look he took it as an affirmation. 

"Geez, it's a good thing they haven't shown signs of doing harm to anybody but you." He whistled, long and low. "That's just unbelievable. I wonder if they realize they could pretty much take over the Earth with that kind of psychic power? They could control anyone they wanted to." 

Pausing in his rumination, Jake looked up at the Doctor, suspicion suddenly clouding his hazel eyes. "You've never telepathically manipulated me, have you? Or anyone else who works here, for that matter?"

He didn't really believe the Doctor would do that, but yet- it would explain a lot. Jake had often wondered how the Time Lord got away with half the shenanigans he pulled. But now Rose was glaring at Jake reproachfully, and stroking her husband's arm in a comforting manner. Jake blinked as he looked properly at the Doctor's face. He'd seen the man in about every possible mood over the years but... no, he'd never seen him look so hurt. 

What had he said?

"He doesn't understand, Doctor, you know that," Rose was saying. "I didn't know what it meant either, until you explained it to me. Remember? I practically propositioned you without realizing." 

That got a small smile out of him and his eyes flicked back to Jake, who was confused, yet understood he'd said something very wrong.

"No, I would never do something like that, Jake," said the Doctor quietly. "It would be a- a personal violation, to enter or manipulate someone's mind without permission. I'd need a very, very good reason," he added, thinking regretfully of the last time he'd been angry enough to do so, of _six words_ with which he'd brought down a prime minister and had unwittingly paved the way for things to go so horribly wrong thereafter. 

"On my home planet, really across the universe for all telepathic races, it would be considered a crime to do such a thing, and privately I've believed all along that is why the- _Ganglies,_ as you lot persist in calling them- haven't used their power to control or harm anyone but me. Apparently, they think I deserve it, and I certainly wish I could figure out why. If I were still in the other universe it would make only too much sense. I interfered in the lives of many people, many species, lots of them weren't too happy about it. But I haven't ever even been _off planet_ since I've been here," he said, sounding tired all of a sudden. "I must just have a hit on me that's valid across the multi-verse." 

Rose's eyes were red and the Doctor, noticing, swept her up in a hug. "But nobody's claimed the reward money yet! And they won't," he told her fiercely. "Sooner or later a team is gonna come in with one of those Long-Limbs all trussed up, and now that I have my favorite scanner working all it'll take is one bio-sample and we'll have the rest of his gang as well. See, I have a new secret weapon," he said, grinning at her, as he reached a hand out to pat it fondly.

"Well, they're still out there tonight," replied Rose crossly, though she was smiling at him. "So if we're going out after these Void crossers you'd better get on making one very tight, _quick_ plan. The less opportunity they have to get their hands on you, the better." 

"You got it, Lewis." 

His eyes were sparkling, gleaming even, in a way that Rose hadn't seen in _weeks._ Her heart skipped a beat when he impulsively leaned forward and caught her mouth with his, inciting an indignant _"Oi!"_ from Jake, who was still sitting in his chair right next to them. 

Releasing her with a soft _pop_ and a brilliant grin, the Doctor purposefully turned away. He pushed on his glasses and bent down in front of the scanner in full out plan-making mode, apparently too wired to sit.

Rose smiled down at Jake a bit sheepishly and he grinned back, raising his eyebrows knowingly at her.

"Doesn't look like he needs telepathy to manipulate you," he told her with a wink.

 

 

********

 

Afternoon was wearing into evening and Amy still hadn't found the right outfit for the concert. She'd disappeared more than forty minutes earlier into a dressing room, loaded down with garments, and Rory hadn't heard a peep out of her since. He didn't mind. He was waiting in a very comfortable chair. 

He jumped when he felt a rough nudge to his shin.

"Wake up, stupid face! I wasn't in there that long," she complained, screwing her mouth up in a childish pout, as though she'd expected him to be waiting in eager expectation for her grand appearance.

Rory yawned, and blinked tiredly. "Sorry."

"Well, what do you think?" She struck a pose for him, a purposefully exaggerated version of the pout-face that had been her trademark during her modeling days. Rory smiled at her. She looked fantastic, in a softly clinging pale green dress which she had paired with the short brown boots she'd been wearing all day. The dress had a halter-top, and skimmed flawlessly over her body to flare out just below her knee, slightly longer in the back. Normally her look of choice was far more edgy, which suited her, but in this dress she was just stunning- beautiful and feminine. 

"You look amazing. It's perfect," he said, admiring her as she twirled around for his benefit. "I can't wait to show you off and make all the other blokes at the concert envious, and I'm not just saying that 'cos I'm tired of waiting. Although we do need to get going if we want to have dinner before the show," he added, getting to his feet. "The doors open at 6:30, so we should be there early if we want get as close to the stage as possible."

"Oh, I want. And I'm ready. Where are we going for dinner, then? That charming little Italian place we saw down the block from the venue? It would be convenient."

"Brilliant."

"Just let me get my things." Amy ducked back into the dressing room to grab her purse and the shopping bag which now contained not just her book but the outfit she'd been wearing earlier. She pulled some cash out of a small zippered compartment and quickly headed for the checkout, not wanting to waste another minute. In such a hurry was she, she never even thought about checking the mobile phone which had been crammed into a corner of the small purse, its voice muffled and urgent and unheard for the last hour.

In fact, so excited had she been about the concert, she hadn't had an extra thought to spare for the poor Time Lord waiting for them back at the TARDIS. A Time Lord who had been feeling rather out of the loop all afternoon and anxious about his still broken-down ship, amongst other things. And frustrated, because he could take no action on anything until she wasn't broken down. 

 

********

 

Back on the TARDIS, the Doctor slammed down the phone with a growl. Great, just great. Absolutely fantastic. Broken ship, mysterious threats, rival part-human Time Lord, long-lost love untouchable but within arm's reach- and now, missing companions. What else could possibly go wrong?


	16. Chapter 15

Amy and Rory were surprised and pleased to find the agreed upon restaurant was half empty, and on a Friday night, even. 

Though after an hour and a half of toe-tapping, finger drumming, and searching for their waiter, they understood, very well and too late, the reason for that. 

At least the concert venue was less than three blocks away, and after _finally_ getting (and reluctantly paying) their cheque, they ran to join the discouragingly large queue of people standing outside of the main entrance.

"Don't worry dear, it'll be fine," said Rory to a rather worried-looking Amy. "We have the psychic paper. We'll get in, no problem."

And they did, though it took a while. 

But quite a lot of other people had also gotten in, 'no problem', before they had. Unfortunately the Ponds were now standing behind most of them, the stage a tiny island in the far-off distance, barely discernible over the sea of heads.

"I'll never be able to see properly," said Amy mournfully, as she shifted for the fifteenth time to try and get farther away from the gorilla-sized man who had wedged his way into the crowd in front of her. "What exactly did you tell the psychic paper again?"

"I told it to get us into this concert," Rory asserted, suddenly feeling defensive. "What else could I say?"

"Well, 'get us entrance to the good seats' would've been nice," retorted Amy, looking longingly at the VIP balcony stretching out above and slightly behind them, which was a nicely spaced out area with tables to sit at. But the balcony was a reserved area, and a security guard blocked entrance by way of the staircase to their left. The lucky people who had seats set aside for them above apparently had no need of arriving at the venue more than an hour early, since it was still mostly empty.

"It wouldn't have made a difference," said Rory, exasperated. "Our names aren't on the list for those seats, and not even the psychic paper can help that."

"I know," admitted his wife, wrinkling up her nose at him by way of apology. "I'm just disappointed, is all."

The Regal Theatre was really a nice place, living up to its name, though Amy was rethinking her earlier rapid dismissal of its fire codes. Although the theatre itself was large and spacious, done up lavishly with rich reds and browns and golds, a high vaulted ceiling and the afore-mentioned balcony, it was kind of difficult to appreciate the decor when you were swallowed up in a gigantic swarm of people. They could be in an old pub basement for all the difference it made.

Yes, it was disappointing, the circumstances far from ideal, and yet...there was a friendly camaraderie forming as the crowd settled down, a buzzing enthusiasm that was quite infectious and it quickly began to permeate and dissipate Amy's bad mood. "How can I be upset?" she asked herself, suddenly unable to understand why on earth she had been. She was at a _Smiths_ concert. Her favorite band, who'd broken up years ago, and regardless of the environment she was _gonna hear them play._ She'd put up with a lot worse than this for such an amazing opportunity.

Rory blinked at Amy in confusion when she suddenly threw her arms around his waist and beamed up at him. "You know what?" she said, eyes sparkling with excitement, "tonight is going to be fantastic."

 

********

 

Back at Torchwood, the promised 'quick, tight plan' was not coming together very well. Or at all. When the Doctor had attempted to pinpoint the exact location of the two superfluous dots, a necessary first step of the plan, the image on the screen had stuttered, disappeared completely, and was replaced by a blank, frustrating blue.

That was over two hours ago, and the Doctor had yet to get it working properly. His hair told the story of his (at times almost frantic) efforts, standing entirely on end from his repeated yanking on it. As Rose stood near him she resisted the urge to smooth it down. 

He looked calmer now, but only because he was repairing some delicate wiring on a circuit board. Long experience with circuit boards had taught him that slow, painstaking actions, while not nearly as satisfying, would yield much better results than cracking the thing hard against the table, and were also far more effective than shouting at it.

Rose and Jake had been mostly silent for the last hour, having long ago given up offering him any suggestions, but neither of them had dared leave him alone to go back to their respective jobs. It didn't matter now. Quitting time had come and gone.

After he finished the task, the Doctor carefully slid the circuit board back in place, and then powered the scanner up again. All three held their breath until the machine finally, successfully, came back online.

Breathing simultaneous sighs of relief, both Jake and Rose looked over at the Doctor. He had visibly relaxed once it began the scans and the first results had reappeared. Eyes were glued to the screen, he scarcely moved for several minutes until it finally displayed the location of the two extras, who by some miracle seemed to be in the same part of town as they were earlier. Tongue to teeth, the Doctor painstakingly zoomed in on their location, and after he'd successfully locked it in, he grabbed his laptop from the other end of the table and flipped it open. 

"Our little friends must be seeing the sights today," he remarked conversationally, as his hands flew to pull up the same map on his laptop to obtain the desired street name and address. He frowned, squinting at it. "Or, well, having dinner, it seems. At... Luigi's Italian Bistro." 

Looking up, he pulled off his glasses and rubbed the marks they left. "Makes sense, actually," he added, looking up at Rose and Jake with a funny little smirk. "If I'd just crawled out of the void of non-existence the first thing I'd want to do is have dinner, wouldn't you? Though not Italian food. Chips for me, I think." 

"Sounds an awful lot like old leather and big ears' idea of a date," replied Rose. "Crawl out of the Void, watch the Earth burn, whatever. Long as we get chips after."

"Oi! No more with the leather and big ears!" Sniffing, the Doctor drew himself up to his full height. "We agreed to refer to him as my 'ninth self', remember?" 

"Ha," Rose snorted. "Like I ever agreed to that. You _insisted_ that I call him that, but I refused to, for obvious reasons." 

"What- what _reasons?"_

Casually chewing a fingernail, Rose pretended to give this some thought. "Well, first and foremost, that is how I always think of him in my _heart,"_ she responded, placing a palm on her chest for dramatic effect. She quickly threw that same palm up to shush his ready retort, and he scowled. "Secondly," she continued, "what if someone overhears us? If I say _leather and big ears,_ that's fine, it's just an old boyfriend I'm talking 'bout, thanks. But if I go around speaking of your _ninth self,"_ not sparing him a grimace for the idea, "people are going to think I'm completely mental!"

Jake was long used to ignoring the couple's bewildering conversations but he couldn't resist this. "I hate to break it to you, Tyler, but it's way too late for that. Everyone in this building decided you were mental after you showed up one day with this lunatic on your arm, then married him quicker than a blink. Especially since you'd ignored every nice, handsome, _normal_ bloke who came by for four years, and instead chose this one with his sketchy history, who, while obviously a genius, barely managed to pass himself off as human those first few weeks. Let alone sane."

Despite the unflattering truthfulness of this, Rose shrugged, unbothered, but the Doctor gaped at both of them.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" he asked, voice pitching higher. "I'm handsome! I'm nice! Right, Rose?"

Rose smiled at him. "Course you are. Didn't matter how nice and handsome those boys were anyway, I only like Time Lords, remember?"

Normally that would've earned her a smug _"quite right"_ at least, but today his only response was a tight smile which didn't seem to reach his eyes. Rose frowned, a bit taken aback.

"All right, you two can flirt later," Jake interrupted. "Let's grab the gear we need and go. You still have a lock on their location, Doctor?"

"On it," he replied, crouching down for one last look at the bio-scanner. Jake bounded over to the other side of the lab to grab a torch and a few other useful items, which he began to shove in his backpack.

"You need anything from your office, Rose?" the Doctor called without looking up.

"Yes. My purse is up there, and I need to change shoes at least. No way am I running anywhere in these monsters," said Rose, kicking up a high-heeled foot as she made her way to the door. "I'll meet you boys at the parking garage exit on Five in ten minutes, okay?"

But it was not to be. For the second time that afternoon, Rose's departure was prevented by another person's entrance. She stifled a groan at the sight of Torchwood's longtime CEO, and more recently, her immediate superior, Gerald Hinkel, stepping gingerly into the Doctor's lab- his air much like that of a king who's deigned to enter a peasant's hut.

As soon as Rose saw him she knew what was coming. The intimidating, perpetually stern-faced man almost never spoke to her unless he had a reason to do so, and since she'd taken on the new position of deputy director his reason was nearly always some paperwork that she hadn't completed and turned over to him as quickly as he would have enjoyed. 

No one could deny that many of the traits that made Hinkel less-than-endearing also made him perfect for the office of CEO; under his rule things were done, done properly, and on time. Great for the company. But as Rose had lately discovered, not so great when you were the one standing in the way of him fulfilling what he obviously saw as his ultimate mission in life.

He was actually one of the first people Rose got acquainted with after being trapped in this universe. She'd seen him frequently when she lived at the mansion that first difficult year since he, as a Torchwood higher-up, spent a fair number of hours there. Although most of his time was passed with Pete in his office, he'd often had dinner with the family afterwards. She had tried to be friendly and get to know him (even in the early days when she was heartbroken and nearly hopeless Rose could never not care about others) but his manner toward her was at best lukewarm, though he would laugh and even joke with her parents. Even without her special talent for reading people Rose would have been able to see that he disapproved of her. Or more specifically- he disapproved of her having been made field agent at Torchwood, a position he saw as undeserved and unearned.

Rose could understand it. From his standpoint, she was just an ordinary young girl, (who, despite her asserted experience with aliens, had been unemployed for years) who waltzed into the life and employ of one of the most powerful men in the world, all by the courtesy of her mother. And to be fair, everyone at Torchwood had been a little wary of her at first. Rose had worked hard to show that her position at the company had not been given based on nepotism. It helped that Jake had been a staunch supporter from the start, and by the time Rose had dealt with her first real field assignment she'd won the respect and admiration of most of her colleagues by her own merits. 

But Hinkel remained unimpressed and Rose, aside from feeling that she'd greatly enjoy seeing him have to deal with real live aliens at some point (instead of just reading about the incidents and critiquing how it was handled), didn't really care about his opinion. 

Well, it was easy to not care when she had no direct dealings with him. That was different now, he'd been really getting under her skin, and Rose was frustrated with herself for letting him. Not that he'd done anything that she could put a finger on specifically. But his manner continuously left no doubt that he looked down on her, disapproved of her promotion, and (the real sting) she was certain he was relishing the power he'd been given over her. But Rose was determined to deal with him on her own, and had uttered not a word of complaint to the Doctor.

Not yet addressing the expectant young woman standing directly in front of him, Hinkel's gaze was sharp and almost raptor-like as he intently surveyed the goings-on of the lab. Rose idly wondered if she would hear that funny tone in his voice again when he finally spoke. Commanding, irritated, yet with more than a hint of triumph as he pointed out her failings.

Having completed his inspection he finally turned his unsmiling attention to Rose. "What are you doing that it needs to be so dark in here? I would think it would be quite dangerous to be working with chemicals, or _whatever_ it is you're doing, in such an environment." His tone left no doubt that his money was on 'whatever', and that 'whatever' probably involved Rose, her husband, darkness, and very little work, despite Jake's obvious presence. 

Rose offered up what she knew sounded like a feeble explanation. "Having the overhead lights on bothers the Doctor's eyes."

"Maybe _John_ would be better off wearing a pair of sunglasses, or perhaps making an appointment to have his eyes examined if that doesn't help."

A far-too-cheerful voice piped up from behind her. "Nah, sunglasses wouldn't do at all for watching my new little telly over here! Rose, come 'ere, I've almost got the resolution perfected, love! You should really check this out too, Gerry- I've just got this little baby off a Kratan airship and I can pick up the football matches in Brazil with her! Isn't that brilliant?"

Rose hid a smile even as she cringed inwardly. His little outburst wasn't going to help; but the fact that her boss had managed to anger the Doctor in less than two minutes made her feel strangely vindicated. And she had to admit he was clever about it, as always- the invitation to watch, combined with the _Gerry,_ virtually insured that the man would go nowhere near the scanner.

Hinkel's jaw was tight and he steadfastly ignored the manically grinning, ridiculous-haired man. "I've stayed late hoping that Weevil report would show up in my inbox, but I take it you haven't finished it yet," he said to Rose, in a tone like that of a stern headmaster whose next action would be to send her to the principal's office.

She tried not to look guilty but feared she wasn't quite managing it. Even with her back to him Rose could tell the Doctor was watching this exchange intently, and felt his strong disapproval radiating throughout the room. She silently willed him to keep his mouth shut.

"No, I'm so sorry; something important came up this afternoon. Will it be alright if I have it in your inbox by morning?"

Hinkel did not look as if he were reassured by this offer. "I suppose it will have to be. I come in at seven. I'll look for it then." He turned and left the room without saying goodbye.

"Wow, he sure is a git, isn't he?" observed Jake unnecessarily.

"Yes," agreed the Doctor, tight-jawed, "and thanks to his lovely visit, we've been delayed, _again,_ and our targets have moved. Thankfully, they haven't gone far," he added, consulting his computer. "Looks like they've gone to a music club a few blocks down from the restaurant." He puffed up his cheeks and blew out a breath, looking up at them. "Rats. Gonna be tougher to get in there."

"Maybe." Rose looked thoughtful. "It will definitely be tougher for the Ganglies to follow us in, should they pick up your scent once we leave here, and that's actually very, very good. As for us getting in, well, why don't I call Robert?" 

"Robert? As in _PR_ Robert? Why would we get your dad's public relations guy involved?" he asked, sounding perilously close to whiny. There was no love lost between the Doctor and the man who had tried so fervently to conform him to the Tyler family's "perfect" image, a task comparable to that of fitting a Tasmanian Devil into a family of elegant swans. The long-suffering PR agent felt it was homage to his rather extraordinary talent that the husband of the Vitex heiress was publicly known as simply eccentric, but lovable- all due to the spin he'd been too frequently called to put on (what the man privately told Pete Tyler) "your son-in-law's _nightmarish_ behavior." 

"Because it's clever. Now," she pointed at the pouting Time Lord, "just listen to my plan, and don't sulk. I'm sure it's too late to get tickets at this point, and it'll draw too much attention to go storming in there as Torchwood agents, yeah? But Robert will be pleased to gain entrance for Rose Tyler, _Vitex heiress,"_ she said, affecting a posh accent, "and _Britain's darling,_ (the Doctor rolled his eyes) John Smith, especially if Robert gets to tip off the paparazzi."

"Tip off the _paparazzi?_ How is that a good idea?"

"They'll be like an added layer of security outside the doors. It's perfect, admit it." Rose smiled at her husband triumphantly. "'Sides, Robert's gonna want something for purposefully allowing you out in public."

"Oi!" 

Rose ignored him as she sashayed elegantly to the door. "Fix your hair, love, I'm going to change and get my things. Looks like you're taking me out on a real date tonight."

 

******** 

 

Time had been passing rather slowly in the close, humid club and Amy looked at her watch. Good; it was now only twenty minutes to show-time.

Suddenly from behind her the crowd's quiet murmuring picked up, becoming an excited buzz. People were turning around, pointing and staring while they whispered animatedly to one another.

"What's going on?" she asked Rory, who simply shrugged while trying to peer over heads. "Is the band coming in already?"

When she twisted around and looked in the direction that the crowd seemed to be focusing their attention, Amy saw, not the famous musicians she was hoping for, but three people she didn't recognize- a pretty blonde girl in a simple but classy knee-length black dress, accompanied by a tall, dark-haired man in a bright blue suit, and a shorter man with nondescript clothing and a bored expression. The blonde seemed quite uncomfortable with all the attention, though offering a polite, shy smile to those who greeted her, as opposed to the tall man, who was grinning brightly, shaking hands and happily speaking to anyone he passed.

As the three made their way up the staircase to the balcony Amy turned to the young pony-tailed girl at her right and tapped her shoulder.

"Excuse me, but who are they? Celebrities of some kind?"

The girl stared at Amy with gleaming, though disbelieving, eyes. "You don't know? That's _Rose Tyler,_ the Vitex Heiress, and her husband, John Smith. They're almost never seen in public!" She looked away so she could continue to watch them ascend the stairs. "Isn't he adorable?" the girl sighed dreamily. "I never thought he'd be even more handsome in person! And of course Rose is as beautiful as ever."

"Who's the other man?"

Shrugging without taking her eyes off the three, the girl replied, "Oh, I don't know, probably just their bodyguard or something." She and Amy continued to watch them as they were seated at a table at the very front of the balcony, near the railing. They were in easy view of anyone who wanted to look, and after she sat down, the blonde, the _heiress,_ turned sideways to face her husband, placed her elbow on the table and hid her profile with a hand.

Amy turned to Rory. "Vitex? Vitex; where have I heard that before?"

"Um, bright-green, nasty drink? Lunch time? Remember?"

"Oh yeah, that's right." Amy made a face at the memory, but she was quickly losing interest in these celebrities she'd never heard of. She checked her watch again. "Ugh, still fifteen minutes to go. Speaking of drinks, would you mind going to the bar and getting us a couple? It'll help pass the time."

A tittering went through the arena and the Ponds joined the upward gazes to see the Vitex man calmly surveying the crowd from his seat, as solemn as could be, through a pair of _3D glasses._ They were the old fashioned kind too, complete with blue and red lenses, and combined with his messy hair and oddly-colored suit made him look just like a mad scientist. He was either unaware of or completely unbothered by the amused attention this was drawing from the people below, and Amy wondered how long it would have gone on if his wife hadn't suddenly spoken to him, then nudged his arm lightly when he didn't seem to hear her. Finally, after giving the blonde a quick glance and a wild grin, he pulled the glasses off, but as he did so, Amy had the uncomfortable certainty that he'd been staring directly at _her._

In fact, she was pretty sure that he still was.

Utterly bemused, Amy blinked and looked at Rory. 

"Drinks?" he offered, and she nodded.


	17. Chapter 16

"Stop staring!" Rose hissed at him from behind her hand. "People think you're barmy enough as it is, and now you've already given them something new to gossip about. Robert's gonna love it when he hears."

Reluctantly dragging his gaze away from the young couple below, the Doctor sighed. "Rose, how did you think I was gonna find them? There's no better way to detect Void stuff than with my trusty 3D glasses. Picked 'em out in less than a minute, didn't I?" He ignored the comment about Robert. Why should he care about PR Robert when he was on a mission?

He was on a mission. For the first time in months. Regardless of the situation he just couldn't help feeling almost giddy at actually being somewhere besides his flat or Torchwood, at having a new puzzle to solve. Rassilon, it felt good. Like he'd just been released from a lifetime prison term.

"They certainly don't look very dangerous," said Jake, looking down at the pair the Doctor had pointed out. "They're not Cybers, anyway. I'd say completely ordinary human beings, though the ginge is something of alright."

"Well, there is no way a 'completely ordinary' couple would have Void stuff on them for no good reason," defended the Doctor, folding his arms. "My detector went off, my scanner found them here, and now my glasses confirm that those two people down there are far from ordinary, and I need to find out why." He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand, trying to decide what to do next while his eyes involuntarily traveled back to the couple in question.

He jumped when Rose kicked him under the table. "Stop staring, I said! They aren't going anywhere. They're totally crammed in."

But as she spoke, the thin, dark haired man began to move away from the woman, slowly squeezing his way through the throngs of people. The Doctor sat up and watched his movements with interest. 

"Is he leaving her here?" Rose asked worriedly.

"No," replied the Doctor, jumping to his feet, "he's heading to the bar. And that's perfect." He gave her a mad grin. "Fancy a drink?"

 

********

 

"Whatever you do, don't order a banana daiquiri." 

The voice was low, drawling, and very close to his ear. Rory turned his head to look for the speaker. As soon as he saw the spiky hair Rory recognized him. The odd man from the balcony. Now he was leaning easily against the bar at Rory's left elbow, staring at him, in obvious expectation of a reply to his nonsensical statement.

Rory tried to smile. "Really? Okay. Actually I wasn't planning on it, just waiting to get a couple beers for myself and the wife. Um, aren't the daiquiris any good?" he asked, to be polite, and wondered why this man was speaking to him, or why he was even at the bar at all. He was pretty sure he'd seen drinks being served directly to the tables above.

"No, not that, they just don't have them here," replied the man, with a shrug. His face was impassive but he was looking Rory up and down with a pair of the brightest, most intense eyes he'd ever seen. 

"At this venue?" Rory scratched at his jaw, feeling semi-uncomfortable under this stranger's scrutiny. He looked around for the bartender and wished he'd hurry up.

"Nah," said the man, drawing out the word as if he liked how it tasted. "They don't have them in this universe. _At all._ Can you imagine a universe without banana daiquiris? If Rose and I want them we have to make them at home. And we do. Often. Banana daiquiris are brilliant."

Rory ventured a puzzled glance back at him and decided that maybe it would be wisest to keep quiet. Best not to encourage him. 3D glasses in the balcony, now this? Either the bloke was slightly mad, or -more likely- he'd already spent a fair bit of time in a bar before he'd arrived here.

He was saved by the arrival of the bartender bringing his beers, and once Rory had them in hand he tried to make his escape.

"Nice meeting you," he said, by way of goodbye.

"Wait a second," the man said hastily, "I've seen you before, right? You and your wife, standing toward the back?"

"Well, yeah," admitted Rory, wondering where this was going. "She was kind of upset about that earlier. She's afraid she won't be able to see, and the Smiths are her favorite band. But it's okay. It's just cool that we get to be here."

Vitex man's eyes lit up. "The Smiths are playing tonight? I _love_ the Smiths! Fantastic songwriting, wellll, if you like that brooding, melancholy sort of thing. Oh, I can't wait to tell Rose," he exclaimed, with a wide tooth-revealing smile. "Allons-y!" He grasped Rory by the upper arm and proceeded to drag him along beside him as he abruptly left the bar area, a man on a mission.

Rory tried to pull away but he was surprisingly strong for such a skinny fellow, and moving like a freight train. "Um, what are you doing?" he managed, nodding toward the stranger's hand on his arm.

The man blinked at him for a second and stopped. "Oh! Sorry! You need to fetch your wife, don't you?"

"Fetch my wife for what?"

"Didn't I say? The two of you are coming to sit with us, of course. Upstairs."

This little merry-go-round was making Rory dizzy. "We are? Why?"

"Because she can't see from where you were standing." He enunciated slowly, with barely concealed impatience, as if Rory had asked him for this explanation seventeen times already. "So go get her, and I'll wait for you at the stairs."

There was no arguing with him, and although at first Rory considered just ignoring the strange man's invitation, as he maneuvered his way back to Amy he actually began to feel kind of excited about this unexpected turn of events. Who cared if the guy was weird? Amy would love this. She'd thought he was a hero for just finding this concert, so this should definitely score some major points.

Finally reaching her, he pulled her close to speak into her ear. "How'd you like to sit up in the balcony?"

Amy shoved him back so she could see if he was lying. "Seriously?"

Grinning, Rory nodded. "Yep. You'll never believe it. I ran into that Vitex bloke at the bar, he's definitely weird by the way, but, long story short, he's invited us to sit with them. So come on, he's waiting for us."

Rory pointed and sure enough, the man was waving at them from part way up the staircase. Amy gave him a hesitant smile and waved back, then looked at her husband in delight. Rory grabbed her hand and towed her along behind him.

When they arrived at the bottom of the stairs Rory's new friend was still perched about four steps up. Instead of simply descending in order to greet them, he chose instead to angle his long body downward, one foot up slightly for balance and friendly hand extended, clutching the banister with his other hand to maintain this precarious monkey-like position.

"John Smith." He met Amy with a disarming smile, and when he shook her hand she got her first close-up look at him and found that Pony-tail Girl had been surprising accurate in her assessment. He had handsome, rather boyish features, complete with freckles spattered across his cheeks, an unruly mop of thick brown hair, and bright, impish eyes. Yes, "adorable" just about covered it. Right down to the red Converse he wore with his slim-fitting, oddly flattering suit.

It was supremely easy to smile back. "Amy."

"Nice to meet you. Shall we?" He released her hand, pulled himself back up to a normal standing position, and gestured grandly for them to proceed up the stairs ahead of him.

Amy wasn't sure what kind of greeting to expect from his companions, but when they reached the table the other man and woman quickly stood to welcome them with warm smiles. 

"We're so glad you could join us," said the woman sincerely. "I'm Rose, by the way, and this is Jake. Jake Simmonds." 

"Amy Williams. And this is Rory, my husband. Thank you so much for inviting us."

They shook hands all around and the blonde, Rose, gestured to the two empty seats on the other side of the table, one of which Jake had just vacated. "Please, sit down. Jake, would you mind finding a fifth chair? Seems we're one short."

"I'll go get one," John Smith offered helpfully as Rose sat down and the Ponds joined her, setting their drinks on the table. It was quieter up here, away from the crowds, though after just one quick glance below they decided they'd be better off averting their gaze from the many sets of curious, envious eyes staring up at them. 

"No, you won't," the bodyguard told John in a tone that Amy thought was rather sharp for employee to employer. "You've wandered around this place enough already; any more would be tempting fate. I don't want to sit here anyway, I'm going to go outside and take a look around. I hate the Smiths." He mumbled a vague "nice to meet you" in the Pond's direction and was gone. 

John dropped down sideways in the last empty chair so he could stare off toward where the other man had just disappeared. "He hates the Smiths?" he asked, tone high and disbelieving. "Seems more like the type who'd live and breathe their music, all dark and gloomy like he is half the time." He righted himself and peered at his wife, pulling at an earlobe. "Did you know this was a Smiths concert?" he asked her, suspicious, as if suddenly discovering he was the one a bit late to the party. 

Rose laughed at him. "Silly. I told you on the way over. Knew you weren't listening." _Again_ was heavily implied. She poked him in the side with her elbow.

"I was a bit distracted, probably," he said slowly, as if he were reluctant to admit it.

Rory could tell this must be a fairly frequent occurrence for him. "Yeah, you forgot to get your drinks too," he said to John, waving to their empty side of the table. John squinted down at it, as if he were unsure what Rory meant, then his eyes went wide. "Oh, drinks! The drinks, right. Rose, did you still want a drink, love?"

"No, I'm alright. Just hungry. We forgot to eat dinner, didn't we?"

"Yeah, bit of a rush. Do they serve food here?" He looked around, as though hoping to see a fully manned food counter that he'd possibly missed before.

He sounded so concerned for his wife that Amy smiled at him. Famous or no, they seemed like a nice, normal couple, though John might be a little eccentric. Amy's expert eye told her that Rose was more down-to-earth, warm and kind. She had to have known the paparazzi would be taking her photo outside tonight yet her dress was nothing special, though possibly expensive; she wore flats and her hair was twisted into a simple up-do. Even her accent was far from posh. Interesting, that.

It was also easy to tell that John utterly adored her.

"Just snacks," said Rose, patting his hand. "S'alright. I ordered chips while you were downstairs. Should tide me over."

John eyed her, as if reassuring himself that she wasn't going to faint away from hunger within the next few minutes. Once satisfied, he turned his full attention to the Ponds, leaning toward them openly with one elbow on the table.

"So, where are you two from?" he asked, chin in hand, his eyes alight with interest.

It was an innocent enough question, but years of off-world traveling with the Doctor had taught them to be very careful when conversing with strangers on strange planets, since it was often impossible to know when certain responses might get them into trouble. This one was easy- _evasion, diversion._ Amy let Rory handle it.

"Oh, it's a really small town, I'm sure you've never heard of it," he replied. "How about you? You live here in London?"

Amy twisted a strand of hair around her finger and took a sip of beer. She knew Rory had already slipped up a bit here; it must be somewhat suspicious, or at least a little offensive, that he would ask such a question of two people that the whole country seemed to know all about.

But John either ignored or didn't hear this (not so) clever diversionary tactic.

"Oh, I've traveled a fair bit," he pressed smoothly. "Bet I know of it. What's the name of the town?"

Rory hesitated. 

As John regarded Rory, waiting for the answer, Amy looked closely at John, and for the first time noticed, _really_ noticed, the peculiarity of the eyes in his expressive face. Yes, they were strikingly bright and intense, that she'd seen at once, but they were also sharp, and old, almost impossibly deep- hinting at extraordinary intelligence, darkness and... _power._ She suppressed a shiver and looked down at the table, telling herself she was being silly. There was only one person who could have eyes like that. 

"Leadworth," Rory eventually admitted, for lack of anything else to say. Amy was glad he left it at that and wondered if this strange, curious man would want to know their exact address next. Then she told herself that she was now being paranoid. All he'd done is ask where they were from. Small talk. 

"Leadworth," John repeated. "Yes, I've heard of it." He sounded almost disappointed, like he'd expected Rory to admit he actually lived in the palace or something. 

They were interrupted by the waiter delivering Rose's chips and Amy gratefully took the opportunity to change the subject, blurting out the first thing she could think of.

"So," she said to Rose, "your husband said he travels. Do you as well? Sorry, but we don't read the papers so we don't know much about you." 

Might as well be honest. Kind of honest.

Rose popped a chip in her mouth. "Good for you. The papers are ridiculous anyway." She wrinkled up her nose as she chewed, as if the snack disappointed her. "And well, yes, I did travel with John for quite a long time. But we don't do it much any more. Busy life an' all. I'm sure you understand. Have you and Rory done much traveling yourselves?"

Amy approached the question with caution. "Yeah, we've roamed quite a bit, actually. And like you, we're too busy to do it much anymore. Rory, he's a nurse, works long shifts at the hospital. I've done a few different things, but I've recently decided to pursue a career as a writer."

At hearing this information John grinned at her mischievously, a look which played quite well on his boyish face. "A writer, eh? I'll reckon you have quite the imagination. So tell me, Amy Williams," he said, spinning out her name with a flourish, "have you ever written a story about parallel universes?"

Her eyebrows drew together at this apparent _non-sequitur._ "Um, no, can't say that I have. I'm not really a sci-fi writer, I suppose."

"What's up with you and this 'other universes' thing, anyway?" Rory interrupted, fixing John with a look. "He brought it up at the bar too," he told Amy.

"I'm an astrophysicist," said John, unperturbed, though Amy noticed his wife looked uneasy. "Parallel worlds- it's a fascinating subject. More so than _where are you from, what do you do?_ all that boring lot of questions. Isn't it?"

He sounded so much like a particular Time Lord she knew that Amy's hand suddenly flew to her mouth. "I can't believe I forgot to ring him. He's probably worried sick by now." She grabbed her purse off the floor and unzipped it, rummaging around for her phone.

"Everything okay?" Rose asked, concerned.

"Yeah," replied Rory. "We just forgot to ring our, uh, our friend back home. We hadn't planned on staying in London quite this late."

"Oh, do you have kids or something?"

"No, no, no kids. Well. We do, a daughter, but. Anyway." Rory cleared his throat. John regarded him with undisguised curiosity.

Amy pulled the mobile from her purse and frowned at its black, unresponsive screen. "Oh, no. It's dead." She held it up to Rory in some alarm.

John reached a hand into his coat pocket and took out his own mobile. He offered it to Amy. She looked, but made no move to touch it. It was a kind gesture but she knew that there was no way she could leave the TARDIS phone number in the phone of someone who was little more than a stranger. Big No No.

He waved it at her, just in case she hadn't seen it. "Here, you can use mine."

Amy smiled, twirling her hair around a finger nervously under the scrutiny of those deep, knowing eyes of his. "Thanks, but that's okay. He won't answer a number he doesn't recognize anyway. It's fine."

His only response was an arched eyebrow, and he continued to hold out the phone as his gaze keenly studied her. Amy pursed her lips, feeling quite annoyed. What right had he to look at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking? Her personal decisions were none of his business. Rory noticed it too and suddenly recalled how John had been staring at his wife from the balcony earlier, and began to see this whole _come sit with us_ thing in a new light. He frowned and sat up straighter in his seat. 

Rose spoke suddenly, breaking the tension. "He really likes Amy's hair," she said, a little too loudly, and they all looked at her. "Well, I say 'likes'," she corrected herself with a roguish look at John, "I mean he's envious of it."

"What?" John stared at his wife in sheer disbelief, as if she'd just revealed his deepest, darkest secret. Rose just smiled tightly at him. All of a sudden he relaxed, shoved his phone back in his pocket, and offered Amy a slightly sheepish grin.

"It's true," he confessed. "I have always, always, wanted to be ginger. Never have been yet, though," he concluded, patting his head, like he still held out hope.

Amy wasn't sure if she should feel flattered or not. "Why don't you just dye your hair, then?"

Eyes lighting up, John turned to his wife but she instantly silenced him with a firm shake of her head. "No. Absolutely not. We are not having this conversation again."

John slumped back in his seat but didn't push the issue. "So! It's 8:18," he announced without looking at his watch. "Good old Moz seems to be running late tonight."

"I don't mind, do you?" said Rose. "This is nice, talking to the Williams'. We don't meet many new people," she confided, drawing circles on her plate with a chip. "Not ones that I actually like, anyway." She and Amy smiled at one another, and Amy realized that she really did like Rose Tyler, and John too, even though they'd only just met. 

"You said you're an astrophysicist?" Rory asked John. "That's sort of impressive. So are you a professor or something?" 

John raised a smug eyebrow. "Nah, I don't teach. I work as a consultant for my father-in-law's company."

"That's Vitex, right? Why would a drink company need an astrophysicist on staff?"

John's eyes widened slightly and he looked caught out, as if he'd forgotten all about the little company that had made his wife's family famous. Now it was Rory's turn to be curious. Surely he hadn't asked anything which wasn't already public knowledge.

"It's not for Vitex," offered Rose hurriedly. "Dad owns other companies which aren't-

Suddenly the room went black, and as the entire crowd hushed in anticipation Amy wrenched around in her chair to fix her eyes in the direction of the stage. The hyped, familiar strains of an introductory guitar solo permeated the dark room and then the stage was abruptly flooded with light. Two famous figures at the front of the stage, on microphone and guitar, immediately launched the band into a fast, modern version of _This Charming Man._ The crowd roared in excitement and Amy jumped to her feet, forgetting about everything else. It was starting!

_Punctured bicycle, on a hillside, desolate_

Rory was standing next to her and she grinned at him when he took her hand. The swiftly flowing music was almost overpowering, and Amy felt a thrill as the thudding beat of the drums reverberated through her entire body. She and Rory joined the rest of the crowd as they cheered and enthusiastically sang along.

_He knows so much about these things_

_He knows so much about-_

Dimly she heard a commotion going on behind her that didn't flow with the music at all, but she paid it scant attention. It wasn't until she felt a strong hand gripping her upper arm that she finally glanced back.

"We have to go! Now!" The bodyguard, Jake, was back, he was shouting at her, and when she looked past him in shock Amy saw John being helped up from the floor by his frantic wife. Another large, weedy man, one she hadn't seen before, lay unmoving on his back a few feet away. What in the world was going on? A quick glance at Rory told her he was just as shocked as she was.

The hand on her arm hauled her away from where she stood rooted to the floor, and Amy took a few stumbling steps toward John, who had just gotten to his feet. He appeared shaken but unhurt, and he was even grinning as he took Rose's hand and looked back at the Ponds.

"Run!" he shouted, sparing a hasty look for the man on the floor, who'd just begun to stir. "This way- there's an exit in the back!" He and Rose fled toward the back of the balcony area, weaving between the tables, and the Ponds sprinted to keep up, barely noticing the alarmed onlookers as the music continued to blare. 

Jake was hot on their heels. "Let me go first!" he yelled in John's direction. "There might be more of them outside the door!"

John nodded and the four slowed, and as Jake ran up to the metal exit door which led to the fire escape Amy saw he clutched a gun, black and gleaming, in his hand. Slowly pushing the door open with his back, Jake led with his weapon drawn, then looked back and gestured for them to follow him.

"All clear! Out this way- car's not far!"

Outside, the summer night was still quite warm, though the sun was low in the pinking sky. The ancient fire escape was so rusty that Amy could smell it, its scent heavy and metallic in the muggy air. Five pairs of feet racing down it together raised up an almighty clanking racket, and in the back of her mind Amy prayed for the decrepit staircase to hold up under their combined weight.

Jake, Rose, and John hit the ground first and turned left, darting away down the long dark alley toward the street at its end. Last in line, Amy was on the second step from the bottom when the heel of her boot caught tight in the metal grating. She cried out in pain, and Rory turned around just in time to see his wife's body twist unnaturally as she fell on to the rough asphalt.


	18. Chapter 17

In the end it was impressive that the Doctor held out for as long as he did. But as bright, sunny afternoon progressed into darkening evening, the recurring theme in his head had progressed from _"they're fine, Pond can look out for herself"_ to _"idiot, you knew this would happen"_ , and he couldn't stand the not-knowing another second. It was just so unlike her to not answer her phone; usually that was his job, since if anything, Amy tended to over-inform. At this point he felt there were only two possible scenarios- 

They were fine but her phone was not, or

Her phone was fine but _they_ were not. 

Today the Doctor was hard pressed for optimism, so with a sigh of defeat he punched in the data his ship would need to scan the city for any and all persons who could be distinguished by a very specific, very rare contaminant. He would know the Ponds' location within minutes, for that he was grateful, but unless they were nearby, preferably heading toward the TARDIS, he was going to have to go out after them. And that was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid, exactly why he hadn't wanted them to go out today at all. 

The TARDIS hummed as she ran the scans but her pilot's nerves were getting the better of him. Sitting there was torturous so he got up to flit around the console room. He fiddled uselessly with this and that as he waited for the results, not feeling impatient for once in his life. He didn't like this at all, it wasn't time to implement his plan yet, the TARDIS wasn't ready. She wouldn't be ready to depart for at least another twelve hours. But him stepping outside her doors would be like the firing of the starting pistol, and the race would be on. If the other Time Lord were still around, he would discover his presence within minutes. 

But he had run out of options, and anyway it wasn't as if his counterpart was like a bloodhound or something. His Time Lord senses could tell him that one of his own kind was nearby, but that didn't mean he could easily find him. The Doctor just hoped there weren't going to be Torchwood agents scouring the streets for a little blue box if he didn't show himself right away.

He was leaning on the railing, deep in thought, and jerked upright when the ship chimed to let him know the scan had completed. With a deep breath that did nothing to loosen the knot in his stomach, he went and sat down in front of the monitor. 

The initial results were displayed in Gallifreyan.

_Planet-wide occurrences: Twelve_

The Doctor closed his eyes. He had no right to be dismayed; this was good news. Not only were both of his companions still alive, so was every other void contaminated person on the planet. Yet a surge of guilt outweighed his relief, since he had to admit that he wasn't _entirely_ happy about that fact.

He wasn't going to dwell on it right now. Time to find the missing Ponds.

"Display first occurrence," he requested.

The first mapped result displayed two occurrences together- it could be Amy and Rory, but on closer examination the Doctor recognized their location as the Tyler mansion. So Pete and Jackie, more than likely.

Moving on. "Next, please."

It was a single occurrence. So were the next four in a row. Still no Ponds.

The Doctor drummed his fingers against the edge of the console. "Next."

The following display, with its unlikely cluster of five, just about stopped both his hearts. His eyes widened and he leaned in and tapped the screen. Was it an error? Please be an error. Or maybe his vision was going and he was seeing double. Well, worse than double, but he was okay with that. He smacked the side of the monitor. 

He was most definitely not okay when the display didn't alter in the slightest.

"No," he whispered, "no way. That cannot be possible." The Doctor was long accustomed to insane coincidences, but this was pushing the limits, even for him. 

"How the- _how the hell can they all be together?"_

It was too much. He gave the monitor a violent shove as though he held it personally responsible for this unwanted turn of events. It swung wildly on its axis and the TARDIS dimmed her lights in disapproval of such behavior, but the Doctor ignored her as he sprang from his seat with a growl of frustration and paced back and forth across the room.

Why had he ever liked the unpredictable? Unpredictable was absolute rubbish. Now he had no idea what he should do next. Anything could be happening out there, and while he was glad to know the Ponds were still okay, they'd certainly gone and made an enormous hash of his plans. As if this mission wasn't bad enough already.

Suddenly weary, he dropped down onto a jump seat and buried his face in a hand. So. It was time for plan B, then. 

Well, he always called it plan B, anyway.

Because it sounded a lot better than 'jump in the deep end and try not to drown.'

 

********

 

On hearing the pained cry behind him, the Doctor stopped in his tracks and spun around, just in time to witness Amy's hard tumble to the ground.

Without hesitation he ran back to her, Rose and Jake following close behind, while Rory dropped to his knees next to his injured wife.

"It's okay, Rory, I'm okay," Amy was telling him. "It's just my ankle. My boot caught on the step and I twisted it." 

Rory helped her up into a sitting position while the Doctor knelt on the ground on the other side of the woman. "Did you hit your head or anything?" he asked in genuine worry, noting instantly that she had injured more than just her ankle. Her right hand and forearm must have taken the brunt of the impact with the rough, pebbly ground; the delicate skin there was marred with dirty, oozing abrasions. Amy held up her bloody palm, and after a brief inspection gingerly dabbed it against the skirt of her lovely green dress, dotting it with rust and crimson.

"Don't do that," the Doctor told her, rummaging deep in his pocket before producing a clean handkerchief. She accepted it gratefully, and after wiping her arm, wound it about her sore hand.

Amy was also sporting a small graze on her jaw. Still worried about possible head injury, the Doctor tilted her chin up with a finger so he could peer closely at her pupils. They looked fine and she shook her head. 

"I don't have a concussion. I'll probably have some bruises, but I didn't fall very far. It's mostly my ankle, like I told Rory."

"I'm a nurse, remember?" Rory reminded the Doctor, sounding irritated as he scooted down to carefully unzip Amy's boot. "Fully capable of caring for my wife."

The Doctor held up his hands. "Just trying to help, sorry. I feel like this is all my fault." 

Amy hissed in pain as Rory gently tugged on the shoe, sliding it off. "Sorry, love, almost got it." He dropped the boot on the ground and examined her rapidly swelling ankle with gentle fingers. "I don't think it's broken, but there's no way she can walk on this," he said, looking over at the Doctor. "And you know, I really wouldn't mind someone telling me what the hell is going on."

Frowning, the Doctor surveyed the scene. Jake's gun was still drawn as he tensely covered the alley. A silent Rose stood an arm's length away, her eyes locked on the door at the top of the fire escape. A door that might come flying open any second, though he doubted it. The creatures rarely mounted such an open attack these days, and that fact made this current situation more, rather than less, dangerous. 

The Doctor got to his feet, looking down at Rory as he brushed the dirt from his knees. "I'm sorry, but there's no time to explain now. Please believe me when I tell you that we really need to keep moving. Our car isn't far from here, just down the street outside the alley. Do you think you can you carry her?"

Rory looked at his wife and she nodded. Although the Doctor could tell Rory was very reluctant, the man silently got to his feet, and crouched down next to Amy so she could put her arms around his neck. He lifted her up, supporting her with one arm behind her back and another beneath her knees.

"After you," he said to the Doctor, and the five of them continued on together.

First to reach the street, Jake swore when he looked down it to the left, toward the Regal's main entrance. 

"Stay back!" he barked, holding back a hand to stay them. "I forgot the stupid paps were still hanging around." He shoved his gun into Rose's hand. "You take over, I'll go get the car." She nodded, and when Jake dashed off around the corner to the right she leaned back against a brick wall, to best defend their position from any direction.

Rose handled the shining weapon like an expert, and the Doctor noticed Amy staring at his wife in shock. He could understand. It was quite the picture she made- blonde hair, little black dress, _gun._ He shouldn't like it. He kind of did, a bit too much, probably. He tore his eyes away from her with difficulty, smiling to himself as he imagined what would happen if the paparazzi caught sight of the Vitex heiress now, looking every inch the secret agent she was.

He felt so happy, standing there next to his gorgeous wife. So, so happy. He frowned. Should he be this happy? He wasn't sure. Well, it's not like it was a bad thing, was it? Him being happy, Rose being beautiful. Even this dingy alley was beautiful, and ohhhh, more beautiful yet was the street located only short meters ahead of him. True, he couldn't see much of it beyond the high walls of the alley, but the orange rays of the setting sun had set it aglow like an alluring, mysterious promised land. The Doctor was fascinated. He had no idea such a place existed on Pete's World. It was practically crying out for him to explore it.

He'd only made it about four steps before he felt Rose grab hold of the back of his jacket.

"What're you doing?" she asked, alarmed. "You can't go out there. We're waiting for Jake, remember?"

He looked back at his wife, tried to focus on her, but it was difficult. Then he blinked, and his eyes were drawn back to the street. The Doctor smiled. That's right. Now he remembered what he was doing. He took another step. This would be fun. He hadn't had nearly enough fun lately.

But Rose was blocking his way.

Why was she scared?

"Stop!" she commanded, in full agent mode. "Listen, my love, and _look_ at me." With difficulty, the Doctor forced himself to make eye contact with his wife, and she smiled at him. "Good. I need you to stay right here. With me. Hold my hand, okay?" She placed her small, warm palm against his bigger one and threaded their fingers together. "Stay with me? Please?"

He squeezed back, feeling his current desire shift slightly with the touch of her hand. Rose needed him. He would do anything to make Rose happy. And before he could try to get his hazy mind to think about it further their car pulled into the alley with Jake behind the wheel. 

Rose breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's get out of here." She lifted a hand to his face to get his attention.

"You need to get in the car. Don't think about anything else, okay? Jake! You need to help with Amy!"

The Doctor nodded dumbly and sat in the front passenger seat, holding tight to Rose until she slipped her hand from his and slammed his door. Jake helped Rory place Amy carefully down on the leather bench seat in the back of the car. Once she was situated Rory crawled in next to her, then Rose next to Rory. From directly behind him, Rose leaned up and pressed firmly on the Doctor's shoulders until he slumped way down in his seat. He didn't understand, but he didn't resist either.

Jake backed the car out of the alley and pulled away slowly. Too slowly. He was probably trying to avoid attracting attention, but in this time the Doctor managed to conjure up at least five escape plans- all of which involved him, this vehicle, and a sudden exit from it.

He had his hand on the door when her soft touch made him hesitate.

A few short minutes later, he abandoned all plans for freedom when the nausea hit. The Doctor closed his eyes, cradling his dizzy head in his hands as his mind lurched and spun, fighting for control like a vehicle on icy ground. Phantom fingers slipped out, like a hand from a puppet, and the first thing that occurred to the Doctor was that the merciless gangly-limbed aliens been in his head again. The realization made his skin crawl, made him more sick to his stomach than the powerful telepaths' forced withdrawal from his mind ever could. He rubbed his burning eyes and carefully opened them, wincing against the dim light. He saw Jake, his friend a dark shadow in his peripheral.

His eyes opened wide despite his discomfort when his next thought struck him. Rose. She must've been terrified. Even though they'd escaped and had accomplished their objective, the Doctor hated himself for putting her through this again.

He craned back, needing to see her. His wife looked pale and tired, and the Doctor's heart clenched. "Sorry I scared you," he said quietly, his voice rough.

"S'alright. But that's the last time, yeah?" Rose smiled wanly at him.

"Yeah." And he meant it with very fiber of his being. He gave her a reassuring smile and faced front again. "Think anyone called the police back there?" he asked.

"They might've done," replied Jake, eyes fixed on the road. "Probably depends on if that guy came to yet, what with the way Rose knocked him out."

"He's fine," piped up Rose from the back, and the regret was clearly evident in her voice. "I didn't hit him near hard enough. It's tough to get the angle just right with someone so much taller than I am. 'Sides, he was already coming 'round as we left. I just kept waiting for him to catch up to us in the alley. Who knows why he didn't?"

"Well, we aren't in danger anymore," interrupted Rory, "we're just driving, rather slowly, through town- so maybe now there's time for someone to explain to Amy and I what exactly is going on? Why do I get the impression that you're used to this- being attacked?"

Everyone was silent and the Doctor took a deep breath. "You're right, unfortunately. There's a small group of...men...in the city, who want me dead. The bloke Rose knocked down was one of them. Somehow they found out where we were going to be tonight." He didn't tell Rory that this part was inevitable, that they _always_ knew where he was. "We've been dealing with this problem for quite some time. Sorry we got you caught up in it."

"Is this gang going to be after Amy and I now? Since we've been seen with you?"

"No, no, don't worry. They aren't like the mob or anything. They only want me, as far as I know."

He realized this admission was a mistake when Rory asked, "So why did you drag us into it at all, John? Now Amy's gotten hurt. And where are you taking us, anyway? Did you ever think of asking if we might want to go home? We'd really like to, by the way."

The Doctor turned around in his seat to face the unhappy passenger. "Again, I'm truly sorry that Amy got hurt. For everything, really. I didn't want this to happen. And we will be happy to get you home, but for now you're coming with us to our flat. Don't worry, it's not far, and then we can take care of your wife's ankle. It needs treatment." 

Rory continued to gaze levelly at the Doctor, showing no sign that he was even slightly convinced. "All I know is that being with you lot is dangerous," he stated. "Why should I think it's any safer at your flat?"

He had to admire the man, he really did. But the Doctor was tired, and he was done playing. "The flat is safe," he said shortly, turning away. "I've made certain of it, long before now. You're coming. We're nearly there; Amy can charge her phone and call your friend, if that's what you're worried about."

Rory ceased arguing and the Doctor was glad. Hurt ankle or no, he wasn't ready to let them go anywhere just yet. He had a few more questions for his new friends. What he did know is that they certainly weren't dangerous; that had been obvious almost immediately. Actually, after talking with them tonight he come to believe that they truly didn't even know where they were. They had honestly thought he was bonkers when he'd mentioned anything about alternate universes. Even so, aside from being coated in Void stuff, there was something funny about them. Something they weren't saying. If nothing else, he was certain that they _did_ know that they were a long way from home. 

He needed to talk to Rose privately. He needed to confess to her that as soon as he'd seen that they were human he'd known that they couldn't have come out of the Void. Daleks or Cybermen could survive something like that, but not fragile human beings. No, they'd crossed universes, unharmed and unknowing, as passengers on a ship. It was the only possible explanation.

And there was really only one possible ship.

One possible pilot.

What he wouldn't tell Rose, not readily anyway, is that he'd almost rather have the Daleks.

 

********

 

As they all stood together in the lift, en route to the Tyler-Smith flat located on the top floor of the security building, Rose breathed a heavy sigh of relief. They'd survived this day, this extremely _long_ day, and she was beyond happy to be home. Though if someone had told her earlier that she'd have the Void crossers _with_ her once she got there, she'd have insisted they get their head examined.

Since their flat occupied the entire top floor of the building it was technically a penthouse, though she and the Doctor had always avoided calling it that. It sounded far too posh, and that was something they'd never be. They'd chosen the place for more practical purposes; it was extremely private, not too far from work, nice neighborhood. But the main selling point had been the floor-to-ceiling windows and the enormous skylights in nearly every room. The Doctor had declared that if he had to live in a proper home, doors and carpets and everything, then he liked this one. It didn't feel confining, and even though they could no longer travel the stars, at least they could see them whenever they liked. Plus, since they were situated so high up, no curtains were necessary. Curtains would be unendurable.

When they all entered the flat together, Rose saw Amy sneaking a look around, a very surprised look on her face. Rose smiled to herself. Even though their place was enormous, and very nice, it was modestly adorned, with a very comfortable, lived-in feel. Rose was certain Amy had been expecting it to be far grander.

The floor plan was an entirely open one with wood floors throughout; the only closed-off areas were the two bedrooms, the Doctor's office, and a bathroom, all located to the left. Straight ahead and around a corner was a spacious L-shaped kitchen and dining area, and to the right was the large living room. It was furnished with an enormous blue curved sofa, a wide, low table situated in front of the sofa, and a shining baby grand piano at the edge of the space. The sofa faced a fireplace, which was hung over with a flat-screen television. On either side of the fireplace was a large bookcase, stained dark, each generously filled with books, with a wingback chair set next to each, perfectly placed for reading.

The ample windows provided a beautiful, expansive view of the city below and sky beyond, but the room was distinctly lacking in all other adornments, aside from a few framed photos scattered about. Neither Rose nor the Doctor had ever been the type to bother much with decorating for decorating's sake. Back when they were still traveling, the only things of that type they'd ever brought on to the TARDIS were mementos of the places they'd visited, and if they were set out it was for sentimental reasons, not showy ones.

But even if they had a working TARDIS here, they'd hardly be able to have alien artifacts scattered about the flat, thought Rose to herself. Then, with a twinge of anxiety, she quickly scanned the place to make sure there _weren't,_ suddenly recalling how her own particular alien liked to appropriate things from Torchwood for his private use. 

The only problem she noticed right away was a few papers he'd been scrawling on, scattered messily over the cluttered coffee table. Under the pretense of tidying up, she slipped over to grab them before anyone else got close enough to notice his unearthly swirling script, as Rory and Jake were in the process of helping Amy to the sofa. Rose also retrieved a couple of unwashed mugs, a brown suit jacket, and the Doctor's white Chucks, which were lying haphazardly in the middle of the floor where he'd kicked them off the night before. 

"I'll make tea," she announced, her hands full, and after tossing the jacket and dirty trainers into their bedroom she headed toward the kitchen to do so. The Doctor came out of the bathroom with his first aid kit in hand.

Rose set the mugs in the sink and shoved the Doctor's papers under the stack of cookbooks sitting on the countertop, making a mental note to let him know where she'd stashed them. She retrieved the teapot and filled it, setting it on the stovetop to heat. As she pulled out a few mugs she could see Rory and the Doctor kneeling on the floor in front of Amy, one on each side of the ankle she had extended carefully onto the coffee table. Even from across the room Rose could tell it was quite bruised and swollen. It looked terrible. She wondered why the Doctor hadn't scanned it with his sonic to be sure it wasn't broken.

Rory pulled a roll of bandages from the first aid kit. "It needs to be iced for awhile before I can wrap it," he told the Doctor, who nodded and looked over at Rose.

"Love, can you grab an ice pack when you're done over there? Or a couple packages of frozen vegetables might be even better."

"Sure." Rose abandoned the heating teapot and opened the freezer, quickly located the requested items, and walked over to hand them to her husband. She watched as he gently encircled Amy's ankle with the icy bags, securing them with a couple lengths of bandage. 

When the Doctor was finished, Rory carefully cleaned her arm and hand with antiseptic wipes and bandaged them as well. Then they helped Amy turn and put both of her legs up on the sofa. Rory placed a pillow under the injured extremity to elevate it, and Amy snuggled in comfortably.

"Feels nice," she said. "This sofa is bigger than my bed, I think. Could fall asleep here." 

You're more than welcome to, if you'd like," the Doctor said, smiling at her. "Can I get you something else to help with the pain? I think we have some paracetamol in."

"Yes, thank you."

The teapot whistled and Rose headed back into the kitchen with the Doctor on her heels. As she poured tea into mugs he opened the cabinet above her and began rummaging around- for what she could not guess. The analgesics were kept in the bathroom. 

He spoke low while he continued to rummage. "We need to talk. Privately."

Ah. "Right now?"

"Yes. In our bedroom." 

"The sugar's in the cupboard next to the refrigerator, _John,"_ she said aloud, looking at him meaningfully. "Would you also take out some milk while you're over there?" 

The Doctor blinked at her, and then his mouth formed an _O_ of understanding. Rose placed the filled mugs on a tray and went back into the lounge to place it on the low table in front of her guests. Rory and Jake had joined Amy on the sofa, and the three stopped chatting to nod their thanks as the Doctor deposited the milk and sugar there as well, along with the promised bottle of pain reliever that he'd hurriedly swiped from the medicine cabinet. 

"If you'll excuse me for a minute, I need to get changed," Rose told her visitors, smiling wryly as she smoothed down her little black dress. "This isn't the most comfortable outfit I own." 

Rose headed for the bedroom, and on reaching it alone turned around to see the Doctor was still standing, rather awkwardly, in front of the sofa. She raised an eyebrow at him and jerked her head toward the door.

"Right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I, uh, just need to, um... help her, so if you'll excuse me as well..." He abruptly darted around the sofa and trailed Rose into their bedroom. Once inside, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it. 

Rose was muffling her laughter with a hand. "You need to _help_ me, do you?" she asked, giggling helplessly. "Smooth one, you are."

He scowled at her. "Finished?" 

Rose pressed her lips together and nodded. 

"Good, because we need to figure out what we're going to do about those two. We haven't had a chance to talk at all."

Wiping an eye, Rose agreed. "Yeah. This whole evening has just turned out so differently than I expected it to. Mostly," she added, thinking of the attack. She wondered what sort of theory her resident Time Lord was going to offer about the mysterious couple, and debated whether or not she ought to mention a certain theory of her own. 

She turned her back to him. "Unzip me, will you, oh most _helpful_ one? I really do want to get changed." 

"You know I'm always glad to be of service." She could hear the grin in his voice as he came close and began to lower the zipper. And then suddenly he froze, his hands cold against her back. 

"What's wrong?" she questioned, trying to turn and face him, but he snaked an arm around her waist and shushed her, pulling her close.

It was hard to keep quiet when he was so very still. "Doctor?"

He loosened his grip on her but still didn't reply, and she turned to look up into his face. His unfocused eyes were dark and troubled as he stared into the air, concentrating on something only he could hear.

Rose's heartbeat quickened. "Doctor?" she said again, taking hold of his hand, and he finally sucked in a breath and flicked his gaze to her. She wasn't expecting to see anger there, unhidden, hot and simmering just beneath the surface of his deep brown eyes. He turned away from her slightly and tipped his head back to look out through the skylight over their bed. The first few stars of the evening had just appeared in the darkening sky, and his eyes tracked over them as he finally spoke. 

"Do you remember when I first starting working for Torchwood, in research and development, and I came across a few items that I said couldn't possibly exist here?" 

"The parts you thought might have come from a TARDIS?" she asked. "Yeah, you said they were impossible because there are no parallel Time Lords, and that those pieces must have come in through a rift or something." 

"Yes. Well, actually, I've always wondered if perhaps I'd been wrong about that. Not about _parallel_ Time Lords per se, but that maybe... maybe someone else _had_ survived the War." 

Rose came close and slid her hand up her husband's cheek, feeling the end-of-day stubble there as she gently coaxed his face down to her own. "Love, why are you bringing this up now?"

His troubled eyes looked into hers for a few seconds before he plowed a hand through his hair and walked over to the window. He let out a ragged breath before speaking. "Because I can sense one. Another Time Lord, here, on this planet, _right now._ And he's close, Rose." 

"And you think this could be some random Time Lord who happened to survive the War?"

"Maybe." He didn't turn around.

"I don't think so." At her words, the Doctor pivoted to stare at her, brow furrowed, and by the look on his face she knew he didn't really think so either.

Rose took at deep breath and softly vocalized the words on both their minds. 

"I think it's the Time Lord we _know_ survived the War. I think it's the Doctor."


	19. Chapter 18

Out on the sofa, Amy threw down her phone in frustration. "He's still not picking up. Why isn't he picking up?" 

"Dear, you know how he is. He almost never answers his phone. He's probably just distracted, working on the TAR- car," Rory amended, mindful of the bodyguard, who was sitting on the far end of the sofa and flipping channels on the telly. The fact that Jake was still around worried Rory. Didn't he have a home of his own to go to? People kept bodyguards around to keep them safe, and as far as Rory was concerned Jake's continued presence was just further proof that this flat was probably not nearly as safe as John claimed it was. Though this was far from the weirdest or most dangerous situation he'd ever been in, Rory still wasn't happy that they'd ended up here, caught in the middle of the couple's (admittedly large) problem. He chalked it up as a side effect of traveling with the Doctor.

He cast his gaze to Amy. She was not watching television, appearing to be deep in thought as she turned her phone over and over in her hands. Rory scooted closer and nudged her with his foot.

"Sorry you missed your concert."

She smiled at him and shrugged, speaking softly to avoid being overheard. "Yeah. We had an adventure though, didn't we? It was fun, well, except for the getting injured part. We haven't had to run like that for a _really_ long time," she said, thinking back, and a small wistful smile crept across her face. "The Doctor would've loved it. I can just see him now, making a scene by refusing to leave until he had all the answers, or he'd scan John's attacker with his screwdriver and accuse him of being on this planet illegally or something," she said, laughing a little before growing serious again. "Rory, you know we have to help them."

"Yeah, I know. And we should involve the Doctor. This is what he _does,_ right? What we do. Help people."

Amy bit her lip. "I just hope he'll do it." 

"What? Of course he will. You couldn't stop him from interfering if you tried; he can't help himself. It's like a sickness or something."

"But he's not right, Rory," she contested, her voice heavy with worry. "He's not really any better than he was the first week; he's just trying to make us believe he is. Think about it. We both know he's never happier than when he's dragging us around from one disaster to another, with hardly a chance to breathe in between. So why is this the first bit of trouble we've seen in almost a month? First bit of trouble, and he's _not even here._ Honestly, I'll be surprised if we can get him off the ship at all."

 

********

 

_"I think it's the Time Lord we know survived the War. I think it's the Doctor."_

 

********

 

Sensing the other Time Lord had only confirmed the grim suspicion he'd had for awhile, but before the Doctor was truly ready to accept it, those words came tumbling out of Rose's mouth and made it entirely too real.

"I know it doesn't explain the TARDIS parts," she continued, "but the rest- it just fits, doesn't it? Human couple crosses the Void; who else could've brought them? I'm sure that's why Amy refused to use your phone earlier- she couldn't, could she, if she was calling the TARDIS. I just don't understand why you didn't sense him before now." Suddenly struck, Rose narrowed her eyes at him. "You didn't, did you? Please, please, tell me you didn't."

That sparked him to a quick reply. "No, not at all," he reassured. "This is the first I've felt him. But the only way he can keep me from sensing him is if he stays in the TARDIS with the cloaking shields on. He's been hiding from me," he added with a contemptuous sniff. "Probably only left the ship now because he had to. I would guess he's pretty worried about his friends."

They were both silent. It was a lot to process. The Doctor tried to gauge how Rose was taking it. So far she seemed amazingly calm.

"Why is he here, do you think?" she asked eventually, to acknowledge the most obvious, yet most uncomfortable, question. "Amy and Rory seem to know nothing about us, in fact it seems like they're honestly just here for a bit of fun. It makes me wonder if he ended up here by accident, again, maybe like we did the first time? You know how his driving is. He's probably panicking right now."

"I think he knows exactly what he's doing."

Rose frowned and looked as if she was fully intent on pursuing that, when all at once she sucked in a breath and her round eyes went rounder in her small face. "So when you sensed him just now that was only because he left the TARDIS?"

"Yes...?"

Rose grabbed hold of his sleeve with fear in her eyes. "Doctor, is there a chance they'll think he's you? He's gonna get himself killed!" 

"Bugger," he breathed. He'd totally forgotten about the Ganglies. The extraordinarily powerful telepaths could easily track anyone with similar mind-sense, as he too well knew. Rose was right to be concerned. If he'd sensed the presence of the other Time Lord, they certainly had too. And if he didn't go soon to warn him, they would get to him first.

"Doctor, what now?" Rose asked, as if she didn't know. Her voice was an odd mix of apprehension and sympathy. The sympathy was for him, because she certainly knew how he felt about all this. Just how apprehensive was she? He didn't know, but he highly doubted that she was nearly as upset as he was about the other Time Lord's possible reappearance in their lives. Why was he here, indeed? It was a good question, but the Doctor was far more concerned about what his doppelganger's reappearance might _mean._ He'd seen far too many uncanny occurrences in his short time here with Rose to be fool enough to think _this_ could possibly be a coincidence. He'd never have predicted it or asked for it, but really, the full Time Lord's coming back might be the answer to everything. 

It was simultaneously the fulfillment of all his worst fears and a godsend.

With a shake of his head, the Doctor carefully hid that last thought from Rose. "Do we have a choice? Jake and I will have to go after him. Please, love, stay here with Amy? Rory can take us to the TARDIS; it's a good starting place. If I can get within close proximity I'll be able to sniff him out easily enough."

Rose looked uneasy. "But what if the Ganglies get too close? You'll need me."

"I won't give them the chance. We can search for him from the car, and once we find him I won't give him a choice but to come back with us."

Rose nodded tightly and wrapped her arms around herself. She was definitely beginning to look overwhelmed, and the Doctor hated himself for what he felt compelled to say next.

"Love, I'm sorry to bring this up now, but... if Amy and Rory really are traveling with the other Doctor... haven't you wondered why they don't recognize me?"

She brought a quick hand to her mouth, understanding him instantly. "He's regenerated again, hasn't he? Of course he has." 

Rose swallowed and stared at the floor, quiet for a moment, and when she looked at up him again she had tears in her eyes. "This is going to sound horribly selfish, but I... I'm kind of glad, actually. Not glad he died, just glad he's changed. It's going to be hard enough seeing him again, and... I don't want him to look like you."

The Doctor wasn't exactly sure how to take this comment. Of course, he knew Rose loved him, that she was fully committed to their relationship, but he wouldn't fool himself- she would always love the full Time Lord as well. How could she not? Regeneration or no, they were the same person. Same software, different case. 

He'd met his other selves before, of course, though even in the most benign of situations they'd never got on very well. But this was unprecedented. It was not a past or future version of himself that he was about to invite into his home, but _another_ one, a second him with a separate timeline. A him who'd shared the very same insurmountable, and most likely _unending,_ feelings for Rose, potentially making this reunion, at best, the mother of all awkward situations.

To tamp down the growing moroseness of his thoughts, the Doctor tried his best to put himself in his wife's place for a second. How might she feel on seeing this brand-new version of the man she loved? The morbidity he couldn't seem to push away told him that apparently, she thought it would be easier than seeing the _original_ version. It would be _too hard_ to see the one who'd looked just like him, but was _better._ The dual-hearted gold standard, the one she couldn't have. Whereas he himself would never be more than the cheap knock-off. The consolation prize.

He shook himself. Okay, so maybe he wasn't the best at imagining Rose's feelings, but the Doctor was fully aware of how he felt. He hated this. Other him had forfeited all rights to Rose long ago, when he'd simply walked away, leaving them behind on that godforsaken beach, so... _what the hell was he doing here?_ Suddenly, he was so overcome by fear and anger and jealousy that he could hardly see straight, and thought wildly that maybe his other self would be better off left out alone on the streets, to take his chances with the Ganglies.

Some of these dark and desperate ruminations must have bled through to show up on his face, because Rose was clutching his arms, looking up at him worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Wild-eyed, the Doctor stared down at the anxious young woman in front of him. His Rose. There she was, the girl he'd longed for so many years, as desperately and hopelessly as a desert longs for steady rains. She should never have been his, _would_ never have been his if it weren't for an insane, breath-taking miracle. 

_His._

At that heady thought, the Doctor closed his eyes and reached back along the shining woven thread that was Rose and his joined timeline, to a beautifully looped and intricate knot; the moment he'd bound himself to her in the most permanent way. A fixed point, and it could never be undone or taken away from him, no matter what their future might hold. 

And for the moment, jealousy was shoved aside by gratitude, wonder, and a heart-pounding, blood-heating onslaught of _love._ His lids lifted just enough to reveal dark, blazing eyes, and Rose gasped in surprise when he instantly closed the chasm between them with an insistent hand on the small of her back. She stumbled against him and he slid his free hand into her hair, urging her chin up, and sought out her soft mouth with his firm, needy one. 

The kiss was long and fierce and possessive, as if it were his means of tying the unseeable ends of their life in a knot, taut and sure, just as he had their beginning. Just them, meant to be forever locked together in a world as warm and intimate as this embrace, and the Doctor didn't ease the fervor of his lips against hers until he felt certain that Time had gotten the hint. 

Breathlessly pulling back, the Doctor grinned down at his slightly-stunned wife. "Yeah, I'm alright," he told her.

And for the time being, he meant it.

"But for now," he added, twanging out an American accent to sound like he'd just stepped out of an old black-and-white Western, "I've gotta catch me a Time Lord." 

 

********

 

Rory was helping Amy back onto the sofa after a trip to the bathroom when the bedroom door opened and John and Rose came out. They'd been in there for awhile, but Rory noticed that Rose had not yet changed out of her black dress. She hung back as John strode out across the room, warily watching her husband like she wasn't entirely sure what he was up to.

He entered the main area, and as he ambled past Jake he nipped the remote control right out of his friend's hand, which engendered an indignant _"Oi!"_ that John took no note of. Without looking, he aimed the stolen device backward toward the television, and as the screen went obediently black John dropped down to sit amidst the debris on the coffee table, surveying the three people seated on the sofa in front of him with raised brows.

"So!" he said, with a bright, friendly smile, propping one trainer-clad foot up on the sofa next to Rory's leg, "you'll no doubt be happy to hear that since Rose and I really enjoy you lot's company, we've decided we need to take advantage of this opportunity to deepen our friendship. Make it stronger and all that, to weather the storms, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health..." The Doctor paused and thoughtfully pursed his lips. "No. Wait. That's wedding vows. I'm thinking more of along the lines of a heart to heart. Share some of our deepest, darkest secrets, yeah? You two seem like you've got some good ones, and you're in luck, since nobody has deeper, darker secrets than I do. I'll even go first, for fairness' sake." 

While Rory and Amy exchanged bemused glances John took a deep breath, as if he were gathering all his courage. "Okay, I'm loathe to admit it," he said, "but... fairly recently, I seem to have developed a rather alarming fondness for a good bit of gossip. Now don't get me wrong; I never cared for such blabber before, so I blame my affliction fully on Donna. Loved gossip of all sorts, she did. Wanted to know what all the neighbors were doing, what her coworkers were up to on the weekends, and she was absolutely fascinated in the goings-on of any and all celebrities." 

He paused, shuddering. "Ugh. Let me say, I've been fully, fully cured of that one. However, I do like knowing what my colleagues are up to," he continued, springing up to perch himself chummily on the arm of the sofa next to Amy. "For example, yesterday, Rose's secretary, Mrs. Todd, told me that they _finally_ discovered the source of the horrible smell that had been emanating from the locker room for the past two weeks." 

He punctuated this statement with a huge, knowing grin in Jake's direction. 

Jake, who'd jumped to his feet at the word 'smell', glowered at John murderously.

"You better shut it," he growled, and John made a happy sound in his throat, like he'd just received a lovely compliment. He did, however, 'shut it', and turned his attention back to Amy and Rory.

"So I've shared a secret, a couple secrets actually, now it's your turn! C'mon, I'm just dying to know- where are you really from?"

Rory and Amy looked at each other. Where was he going with this? "Um, we told you that already," said Rory. "We're from Leadworth."

John brushed this off. "Oh, yes, Leadworth, good old Leadworth, I'm sure you are; just not _this_ Leadworth, am I right?"

Rory couldn't hide his shock. How could the bloke know that? Imagination running away with him, he suddenly pictured John and Rose as some evil, crazy xenophobes who had actually kidnapped him and Amy tonight without them even realizing it.

John had been observing Rory's reaction carefully. "Ohhhh," he said slowly, in sudden understanding. "You think you're on an alien planet, don't you? Is that what he told you?"

"What....what _who_ told us?" Rory stammered, sharing a fearful glance with his wife.

But John's expression wasn't evil, or ominous, if anything he just looked incredibly pleased with his own brilliance. "Of course he did! Did he say that this planet was a re-creation of Great Britain or something? It's not, you know, though that does exist. But he's always clever like that, when he lies. Gotta have that little bit of truth to make it believable."

At that Rory realized that John wasn't crazy, villainous, or even fishing for information. He was a man who knew exactly what he was talking about. "You know the Doctor," Rory stated. "Fairly well, from what you're saying."

"Oh yes."

 _"What?"_ A wide-eyed Amy interrupted. "How do you know the Doctor?"

"Oh, a lot of people know the Doctor," John said, with a dismissive little wave. "He gets around. Aren't you far more curious to know where you are? I wonder why he lied to you about it."

Amy's expression was guarded. "Okay, I'll bite. Where are we?" 

"Why, you're on Earth, of course. Don't you recognize it?" Amy opened up her mouth but he held up a silencing hand. "Now, I know you're about to argue with me on that- probably something like, 'but John, Earth doesn't have zeppelins floating around all over the place, polluting our view of the sky like a flock of gigantic, verminous pigeons.' " 

"And you'd be right," John added. "But here's the kicker- this isn't your Earth. And now it's time for another bit of honesty. I wasn't mentioning parallel universes earlier because I'm fascinated with them. Quite the opposite, really, since parallel worlds have never been overly kind to me. I brought it up because I wanted to see if you knew you were in one. Cos believe me, your Doctor most certainly does."


	20. Chapter 19

Amy couldn't seem to find it in her to feel shocked or even the slightest bit angry over John's revelation. So the Doctor had lied to them again. Big surprise. All she really cared about right now was - _why_? Why would he find it necessary to lie about this? They'd been in another universe with him before, and it hadn't been an issue. In fact, before the predictable disaster he'd been almost giddily excited about it. 

So why was this place any different? Amy knew her Raggedy Man well enough to know that his lies only ever had one motivation. To protect. So, she supposed, the real question was- who exactly was he protecting?

Rory wasn't all that shocked either, and John seemed a little put out by their lack of reaction.

"This isn't our first trip out of the universe," Rory informed him. "Though the other time was quite a lot different; the Doctor called it a bubble universe, not a parallel."

John was still seated on the sofa's arm and from behind him Rose placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. "Can't we talk about all of this later? You should _really_ go, you know, before..."

He glanced up at her and got to his feet. "Yeah, you're right."

"Go where?" asked Jake. "Why does no one ever tell me anything? Like, how long have you two," he waved a finger between John and Rose, "known that these two," waving the finger at the other couple, "came here with that other Doctor?"

"Not very long," said Rose. 

Amy wrinkled up her brow. _"Other Doctor?"_ she repeated silently. 

"We need to go find the Doctor," interjected John quickly, in answer to Jake's first question. "You and I. And Rory. Rory can show us where he's parked the TARDIS."

"Why?" asked both men in unison.

"Oh, let's just say I really, really, need to talk to him," said John, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at Jake and jerking his head toward the door. "Besides, don't you think the Doctor might care to know where his friends ended up?"

"Well, he'd know if the stupid alien would answer his phone," muttered Amy, as Rory shrugged and leaned over to kiss her goodbye. "Tell him I'm expecting a full explanation when he gets here."

"Oh, he'll know that without telling," said Rory, grinning at her. "See you soon." 

As Rory left his wife to join John and Jake at the door, Rose made an impromptu dash past him to her own husband, and took hold of his lapels to pull him down to her level. 

"Love," she said earnestly, "promise me that you won't be too angry with him. Just... give him a chance to explain, alright? I'm sure he has a very good reason for being here."

A hint of a smirk played on the hard line of John's lips. "Oh, I'm _sure_ he does, too." 

Rose glared. She did not look at all happy. "Don't be like that."

"I don't know what else you expect me to say." John shrugged a shoulder, cool, like nothing could bother him. His wife's face only darkened further.

"Fine then, think what you will," she said. "Since you've already made up your bloody stubborn mind." She pointed a finger at him. "Just make sure you behave yourself."

He unsmilingly saluted her and the three took off together.

Sighing deeply, Rose latched the door and turned to offer Amy an uncomfortable smile. "So... I think maybe I'll finally get around to changing out of this dress," she said, laughing at herself a little. "Um, would you like to borrow something more comfortable to wear?"

Amy smiled back. "Maybe later. I don't really feel up to moving right now. Besides, I think I'm looking pretty good in these lovely bags of peas," she laughed, lifting her injured ankle slightly. Rose giggled, then hurried off into the bedroom with a promise to return shortly.

Sitting back amongst the thick blue cushions, Amy took advantage of the time alone to try and arrange the whirlwind of an evening into some kind of order in her mind. So. She was in an alternate universe. It actually made a lot of sense now that she knew the truth. It explained all of the strange differences she and Rory had encountered here, even down to members of her favorite band still performing together. 

That was the weirdest part. That there could be a parallel version of a _person._

Then it hit her that maybe there was even a parallel _her._

Well, even if there was, it wasn't as if they'd be exactly the same person. She firmly believed that much of who a person was, was formed by his or her own unique life experiences, the decisions they'd made. Regardless, they weren't likely to run into each other. Unless... she went looking. For fun, Amy imagined announcing to the Doctor an intent to do so, and his subsequent horror. It _was_ an intriguing concept, to see firsthand how your life might've turned out if you'd done just a few things differently.

But... no. She'd probably just end up pitying her other self anyway. Especially if she hadn't married Rory.

But far more intriguing than a parallel world was the fact that this couple knew her Doctor. Amy was now absolutely certain that meeting John and Rose tonight had not been an accident. It had been a carefully orchestrated plan, and maybe even the attack on John had just been a way to get her and Rory to their flat. How they'd pulled it off, or the bigger question, _why_ , she had no idea. Yet she was sure that all of it had to somehow revolve around one extremely closed-lipped Time Lord. Set down to bald facts, it actually kind of looked bad, but her gut told her that John and Rose meant no one any harm. Amy certainly didn't feel threatened in the slightest. 

Curiosity growing, Amy studied her surroundings with interest, stranded on the sofa but desiring to learn more about these people from her Doctor's mysterious past. When she'd first heard the word _heiress_ and had seen how well known publicly the two were, her mind had automatically leapt to wealth, a mansion, maybe even servants. So their actual home, nice as it was, had been sort of a shock. It was obvious that John and Rose didn't care much about material things. Their place wasn't even overly tidy. 

So what did they care about? What did they spend their time on? She already knew John worked for his father-in-law's company, and from comments he'd made it sounded as if Rose did too. Although the way the blonde had handled that gun earlier... Amy wasn't sure how that fit in, and put it aside to think about later. 

She continued to look around. They were book-lovers, that was obvious. On the shelves flanking the fireplace were dozens of books on a variety of subjects- astronomy, science, medicine, as well as numerous thick novels. Interestingly, the titles of a large number of the books were in languages she didn't recognize. Off to the left, the piano looked to be proudly cared for and played, judging by the dog-eared sheets of music on the music stand. Amy smiled when she glanced down and noticed a very expensive-looking crystal bowl on the table in front of her was being used as a catch-all for someone's projects, full of small metal parts and odd bits of wire. 

Leaning forward, Amy took a framed wedding picture off the table. It depicted a beaming John gazing adoringly into his wife's eyes as he twirled her up off the ground, his hands on her waist. Rose's arms were wrapped around John's neck, she was laughing, and her long, creamy skirt was beautiful as it floated out behind her.

They made a gorgeous young couple, obviously very much in love. They were a lot like... she and Rory, actually. Amy wondered if she was possibly seeing a pattern here. Could this couple have also traveled with her Doctor at one time?

A door opened behind her and Amy looked up from the photo, turning her head in time to see Rose emerge from the bedroom, dressed in jeans and a dark pink tee. She'd taken the pins out of her hair and it now fell halfway down her back, golden and shining.

Amy held up the picture in her hand. "How long have you been married?"

Rose smiled. "Three years. You?"

"Nearly eleven. In linear Earth time anyway."

The other woman seemed a bit taken aback. "No, really? You don't look old enough."

"Well, thanks. Must be good genes, I guess. Although sometimes I wonder if traveling with the Doctor has had something to do with it. You just never know. I've seen TARDIS travel do stranger things to people," Amy added, thinking of her daughter.

"Tell me about it," said Rose quietly, joining Amy on the sofa and tucking her legs underneath her.

Amy regarded her in open curiosity. "So you did- you traveled with him too? Wow, I- sorry, but this is just so weird," she admitted with a small laugh. "I've known the Doctor for so long, my whole life almost, but I've never met anyone from his past. He refuses to talk about it, so it's easy to forget that he's ever had any other friends besides Rory and I."

The interest in Rose's eyes mirrored Amy's own. "Oh, do I know how that is," she replied. "I felt the same way, until one day when we ran into a prior companion of his. Sarah Jane her name was, and I was _so_ jealous." 

Amy reddened slightly, and Rose cleared her throat, looking a little embarrassed. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply-"

"It's okay," Amy reassured her, "I don't feel too jealous quite yet, but I'm not promising we won't get into a good cat-fight over him later."

Rose laughed out loud and seemed to relax a little. "So how did you meet him?" she asked, leaning in closer, as though she'd been waiting years for this and couldn't bear to miss a word.

"I was only seven," Amy said, recalling the event with a broad smile. "And this is my most cherished memory. It was late, and I was up in my bedroom, when I heard this horrible crash out in my back garden. I rushed outside quick as I could and what did I find? A blue police box, lying on its side, and it had totally smashed the garden shed."

Rose's jaw dropped. "He crashed the TARDIS?" 

Amy nodded vigorously. "Big time. Smoke pouring out and everything. Then the door pops open and a," she started laughing, "grappling hook comes flying out, followed by this strange man who immediately asks me for an apple. He was soaking wet, and his clothes were all torn and ragged. I've called him my Raggedy Doctor ever since."

"Does he still wear raggedy clothes?" Rose had a strange look on her face, as though this were an unimaginable idea.

"No, although I won't say his current fashion choices are much of an improvement. I think he only wore the torn clothes for a day in his timeline, but it was years in mine. Time travel can be so confusing. He told me he'd be gone five minutes, and it ended up being twelve years."

"Has his driving gotten that bad?" asked Rose, in a mix of amusement and horror. "The worst he ever did to me was bring me home a year late, when he said it was twelve hours. My poor mum. Slapped him so hard, she did!"

"I wish I could've seen that," Amy giggled. "But yeah, his driving's bad, although that time I don't think it was his fault. The TARDIS was in quite a state, and the Doctor was too."

Rose was quiet for a long minute. "Had he just regenerated?" 

"You've heard about that?"

"Once he did it right in front of me."

Amy couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her. "So he really changed his whole body? I mean, he's told us about regeneration, in theory, and that first night I met him he went on and on about his new taste buds, but he says so many weird things that I never know what to believe." 

"He really changed. Whole body, personality, everything. Don't get me wrong, he was still the Doctor, inside, but at the time it was sort of hard to get used to. I was so scared." Rose ducked her head, absently twisting a loose sofa thread between her thumb and index finger. "Amy, I have to admit I'm a little scared now. I haven't seen him in a very long time. And... I'm sure that your Doctor is not quite the same person he used to be, back when he was _mine_."

 

********

 

The atmosphere in the car was strained and silent as the three men continued to canvass the dark London streets in search of TARDIS or Time Lord. Until now, Rory would have wagered that John Smith was wholly incapable of being quiet for any length of time, but once again the man surprised him. Since they'd left the flat, John hadn't said a single word beyond a clipped inquiry as to what part of town Rory thought the TARDIS might be parked in.

Rory sat in the front passenger seat, the navigator. Not that he'd win any awards. He had already failed to remember exactly which street the ship was parked near by, but since he had always had a good nose for direction he wasn't too worried. However, his first couple of guesses had proved incorrect, and he could tell this was making his companions a little nervous. 

Jake turned the car around again.

"I think we just didn't go far enough last time," said Rory, "because I'm sure I remember walking by that little flower shop" he pointed as they drove by, "this morning, and I thought it was weird that all the flowers in the window appeared to be Earth varieties." He peered out of his window, observing as best he could every time Jake slowed down, but it was tough. Every alley looked the same, and it was difficult to tell what, if anything, was hidden in the dark shadows. Rory searched ineffectually for familiar landmarks. 

Just as he was about to suggest renewing their search on the next street over, Rory heard an audible intake of breath from the taciturn man in the backseat. 

" _Wait_ , slow down, Jake, she's here-" rasped John in a strangled voice, and it was a good thing that Jake was already going pretty slow because John was exiting the vehicle, stumbling a little as his feet hit the still-moving pavement.

After a quick glance back in the mirror, Jake slammed on the brakes. "Idiot!" he yelled, "you're gonna kill yourself-" but John didn't bother to look back or even shut his door as he darted off ahead of them, turned right, and was swallowed up in the gloom.

With a long, heavy sigh, Jake pulled over to the curb and put the car in park. "Have you ever met anyone as impatient as that?" he asked, as he and Rory got out to chase after their impulsive friend.

"Yes," said Rory, emphatic.

As the two rounded the corner together Rory could just make out the tall, imposing shape of the TARDIS parked several meters ahead of them. All of her outside lights were off, and Rory wondered if the Doctor had not yet succeeded in getting any power to the ship, but then the top bulb began to glow faintly, casting spooky shadows on the brick walls of the buildings on each side.

It was bright enough now for him to see John. He was standing directly in front of the timeship's door, unmoving, one limp hand spread out against the doorframe. 

"Isn't he in there?" called Jake to him.

John shifted slightly to notice them, and without responding, turned back to the ship and began beating a heavy fist against the blue door. 

"Open up!" he shouted, pounding furiously, raising up enough of an uproar to be heard blocks away. "Don't be such a coward! C'mon! _Open this bloody door and talk to me!_ "

Rory and Jake looked at each other. Frowning, Jake walked up behind John and placed a cautious hand on his upper arm. "I don't think-"

Roughly shrugging him off, John spun round to face Rory. "Do you have a key?" he demanded, teeth clenched, eyes black and angry in his pale face.

Rory stared. "No...why would I have a key?" he asked, confused and maybe a tiny bit scared. "I've only ever even seen _him_ use one a handful of times."

John's stormy eyes cleared and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Of course! Oh, I _am_ thick!" he exclaimed, and immediately jumped back from the ship. Holding one hand up and out, he brought two purposeful fingers together.

_SNAP!_

For a second nothing happened. And then- a nearly inaudible creak before the lights suddenly came up in full force, like a spotlight on a stage, and the double doors drew open in a dramatically slow, gliding motion, as if the TARDIS were thoroughly enjoying her big moment in this theatrical scene.

John let out a whoop, loud and joyous and emotional, then raced to the ship and disappeared inside.

Leaving Rory and Jake to stand alone, outside, able to do nothing but gape after him in befuddled astonishment.


	21. Chapter 20

Rory was frozen. Rooted. Completely immobilized, adhered to the crumbly black asphalt of some dark, foul alley, and all he could think of was that Rose must have drugged the tea she'd given him earlier. 

_Had_ he just witnessed that notoriously touchy time-ship practically roll out the red carpet at the sharp command of some bonkers, messy-haired stranger? Welcoming him in, like a mother reunited with her long-lost son? 

The TARDIS was never that eager to admit anyone through her doors. Not even her own pilot, half the time.

"Rory?" Jake's calm, clear voice startled him out of his imagined hallucination. "Didn't you hear me? C'mon, we should probably go after him. Who knows what that lunatic might be getting up to in there."

Rory managed a silent nod and the few steps needed to board the TARDIS. He was tailing Jake closely, and when the man stopped dead just inside the ship's doorway the only reason Rory avoided slamming full force into him was because he'd halted too, as overcome as Jake. But not by the ship's impossible interior. In fact, _that_ was pretty much the only thing he'd seen coming in the scene set before him now.

Most notably lacking was an aggravated, shouting Time Lord, who should be there, putting Rory out of his misery by demanding instant explanation from the one who'd dared breach the walls of his kingdom like some invading enemy soldier. Without him, the place reeked of emptiness, abandonment, and even more unanswered questions, and the one that had Rory most thrown came in the form of a tall, skinny riddle who changed his personality at whim and seemed hell-bent on doing whatever might be the _least_ predictable. 

He was still at it, now inexplicably slumped down on the short flight of stairs that led up to the console, pitched forward, one hand pressed tight over his eyes. Sitting there, he looked so fragile, helpless, and utterly human that Rory couldn't help but wonder anew if he'd simply imagined the powerful, confident being of just a few moments ago.

Somewhat concerned, Rory stepped around Jake and walked toward John with trepidation, like one might approach an unpredictable wild animal. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, quietly so as not to alarm him.

John removed the concealing hand and lifted his chin to look up at Rory. Though his freckled cheeks were flushed and streaked with tears, Rory was surprised and relieved to find him smiling.

"I can hear her," he breathed, and his lips trembled. "I can _feel_ her. She's really here." He was referring to the TARDIS, Rory knew, though unsure why her presence would affect the man so profoundly.

John scrubbed a slightly shaking hand over his face. "I'm sorry," he said, swallowing hard, but sounding a bit more like himself as he grasped the railing and stood, ascended the stairs, and wandered over to the dimly lit console.

"I honestly thought I would never see her again," John said quietly to no one in particular, and the time-ship's soft humming increased as he gently stroked her heart with loving fingertips. "I had Rose, of course, and staying with her was what I wanted above anything, but I had _no idea_ how much I would miss-" he choked a little, and leaned in to lay his palm flat on the Time Rotor, caressing the curved glass as he gazed around the console room. "He changed her," he said, his roving dark eyes taking in every last detail. "She looks... beautiful; she's always beautiful, but this is too showy. Overdone." 

His eyes fell on Rory. "Is that the kind of man he is, now?" he asked. "Showy?"

Rory felt a little out of his depth. "Well, yeah, I guess so. He's the Doctor. Isn't he always?"

A grin pulled at the side of John's mouth and he tilted his head in agreement. "Yeah."

Jake had just come up the short flight of stairs, and was staring around in open-mouthed wonder. "Y'know, I always figured you were lying about this," he stated plainly. "But it's every bit as amazing as the two of you said it was."

John beamed. "Oh, and you should see the places she'd take you, Jake, the places I've been. Woman Wept, where the ocean's waves have flash-frozen, arching high above your head..."

As John carried on reminiscing to his wide-eyed friend, a tiny seed that had taken root in Rory's mind began to sprout and grow. But it was an idea far too crazy for serious consideration. It was daft. Barmy, and also ridiculous. Nope, there was no way. The Doctor was capable of impossible things, he knew that, but this mad theory defied all logic.

He eased down onto a jump seat so he could sit back and study John unobserved. It was funny, but suddenly this odd man's mercurial mood swings seemed incredibly familiar to Rory. Heavy spirits of three minutes ago had been replaced by elation, and John was frenetically hauling his friend around the console, ceaseless words spilling out like water, English peppered with the undeniably alien. Sitting there, Rory felt an ever-growing sense of déjà vu. How often had he been in Jake's shoes, his own upper arm grasped in that too-tight grip, subjected to the same sort of incomprehensible, inescapable, over-enthusiastic monologue?

Without thinking, Rory jumped to his feet. "John," he rashly interrupted, "this is _the Doctor's_ spaceship. His TARDIS. So how could you open the doors like that? And why are you talking about this ship as if..." 

He paused, almost reconsidering. What the heck. Might as well say it.

..."as if it's _yours_?"

When John turned to face him, all pretenses dropped and his eyes deep and ancient, Rory knew. He knew before he said it. 

Because only one person could have eyes like that.

"This _is_ my ship. I am the Doctor." 

 

********

 

Amy wasn't sure what to say after Rose confessed her nervousness at meeting, what was to her, a new and unknown incarnation of the Time Lord. It wasn't as if she could really understand what that would feel like, having never dealt with it herself. Yet, she couldn't imagine how _any_ version of him could be better or more endearing than the one she herself knew. Rose had nothing to worry about. She hastened to reassure the other woman.

"Listen," Amy said, "I'm not going to pretend to have any idea of what he was like when you knew him. But tell me this. Was he kind?" 

Rose nodded mutely.

"Funny? Brilliant? Absolutely wonderful?"

A tiny smile began to bloom across Rose's face. "Yeah."

Amy smiled back, her eyes wide and earnest. "Then he can't have changed that much, can he?"

Rose gave her head a quick shake. "No, you're right. But it's not that so much as... just tell me more about him, Amy, please. Is he... is he _happy?_ Thing is, that's what I've always worried about the most. I've worried about it for years. The Doctor is so many things; he is always wonderful, saving people, giving of himself to others, but the last time I saw him he-" she broke off, swallowing. "He was broken. And all alone, or soon to be, anyway."

_Broken and alone._ Picturing him like that made Amy's heart ache, and she opened to mouth to tell her "yes, don't worry, of course he's happy," but the words caught in her throat as she thought back to what she'd said to Rory less than an hour ago. _There's something wrong with him._ And she still didn't know what it was.

Her silence stretched out until Rose began to look even more anxious than she had before.

"Well," said Amy, finally, since she had to say something, "he has been. As happy as anyone who leads his life will ever be. He can be dark, burdened, and even sad sometimes. But I'm guessing he was also like that before, yeah? And Rory and I aren't always with him anymore, so I understand your worry cos he's absolute rubbish on his own. But he rings us, and he comes to visit, once he even stayed with us for a few days," she said, then laughed out loud at Rose's flabbergasted expression. 

"As long as I keep hearing from him, I know he's okay," she continued seriously. "Sometimes I get really scared if it's been a long time, and when he eventually shows up I just threaten to put a tracking device on the TARDIS or get him chipped or something, and for awhile he'll be better about remembering to ring us."

Rose laughed. "Oh, I'll bet he loves that. Sounds like you're good for him."

Amy smiled and tried to rearrange her body into a more comfortable position. Her ankle was aching, yet her mind was even less easy. Just talking about this had raised up one of her oldest (and deepest) worries, and she realized that sitting beside her now was perhaps the only person she'd ever meet who might be able to help alleviate them. Or make them much, much worse. Did she really want to know? 

Yes. Always better to be prepared, even if you don't like it. 

Amy forced herself to ask. "Since we're speaking of the Doctor not showing up again, cos I really worry about that sometimes, I do, so Rose... why did you stop traveling with him? Whose decision was it? Yours? Or _his?"_

Amy braced herself for the answer as Rose cast her eyes to the floor. "S'complicated. More so than you'd ever possibly imagine." She looked up at Amy, and her face was sad. "I had planned on travelin' with him forever. But then- something happened, we got separated, my family and I ended up stuck here in this universe. He couldn't get me back, even though he wanted to."

"Why not?"

"At first, it was because 'travel to parallel worlds is impossible.' His words. He has a funny definition of impossible, doesn't he?" Rose made a rueful sound in her throat. "Because this will be the third time he's been here. That's what I don't get, Amy. How'd he get through again? He sealed up the walls for good when he left, last time."

"You do realize that I have no idea. He's been extra secretive lately, and that's sayin' something." Amy paused, remembering. "Although, for the last few weeks, all he's been doing is looking for some _rift_ that he claimed needed fixing, you know, before it got bigger and destroyed the universe or whatever. Maybe he found it and it led him here?"

Rose shrugged. "Maybe." She sounded as if she had no interest in speculating. They both knew only the Time Lord could really answer that question, and anyway, the _how_ wasn't nearly as important as the _why._

Amy recalled two of Rose's earlier words. "You said 'at first' he didn't come back for you because he couldn't get through. So what else happened?"

Rose took a deep breath. "After I'd been trapped here awhile, this universe began having some major problems. One was that its walls were breaking down. That was very bad, but it also made it possible for me to return to my home universe- your universe- to search for the Doctor, to get his help."

_How did she do that?_ Amy wondered, but decided to save it. "I'm guessing you found him, and he fixed everything as usual?"

"Yes." Rose closed her eyes. "But it wasn't easy. Amy, I searched for him for _so_ long. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, and I thought I would never find him again." Her lids lifted to reveal eyes shining with unshed tears. "But by some crazy miracle, I did. And as usual with him, nothing ever goes anything like you hope it will. What happened next was completely barmy and it threw the biggest wrench you could ever imagine into my plans. Instead of a happily-ever-after on the TARDIS, the next thing I knew he'd brought me back to this universe, and the walls were closing. The Doctor wanted me to stay here, with John, with my family.... I know he just wanted what was best for me, but he didn't give me much of a choice. Before I really understood what happened, the TARDIS was disappearing, and he hadn't even said goodbye." Rose trailed off quietly, biting her bottom lip. "I knew full well that I'd never see him again."

There was so much to this story she wasn't telling, Amy was certain. But it was easy to see that reliving even this much had been very difficult for Rose. It seemed as if she was still hurt, maybe even angry over having been left behind. Privately, Amy wondered why. In her mind, the Doctor had done right. He had to go back to his home universe, and it would have been beyond selfish of him to take this young woman forever away from her family, away from a normal life with the young man she obviously loved. What was strange was that Rose had even considered going. If it ever came down to a choice between Rory and the Doctor, Amy wouldn't even have to think. She knew full well where her heart belonged.

Rose looked as if she knew what Amy was thinking. "I realize this sounds bonkers. There's more to the story, but... it isn't all mine to tell. Thing is, the story was supposed to be over. The Doctor and the TARDIS, off to see the universe; John and I, left here to have a life together. No last minute twist, no possible sequel. So why is he back?"

"My guess is he just happened to find a way through, and wanted to say hello. He probably misses the two of you." 

Simple, Amy thought. She certainly hoped that's what her best friend would do if she and Rory had been stuck in a similar situation and he had come upon the chance to return to them. All in all, this conversation had relieved her worries considerably. The Doctor's actions were everything Amy would expect them to be, and this made her feel very happy indeed.

Problem was, Amy forgot that this was _the Doctor_ she was thinking about, and having _expectations_ whenever he was concerned had never worked out so well.

So she frowned when Rose began shaking her head in firm disagreement. 

"No. Not unless something's really, really changed. Because I'm pretty sure John and I are two of the last people he'd ever choose to see again."

 

********

 

"So what are you, then?" asked Rory. "A parallel version of him?" Though still a bit pale over the revelation, he sounded quite sure of his conclusion, as if he were used to correctly figuring things out on his own. The Doctor grinned; imagining how annoyed his counterpart probably often was, having this serious young man hanging around to take the wind out of his sails. Rory was definitely clever. More than once tonight he'd displayed his ability to rapidly find the most logical solution.

"That would make the most sense, wouldn't it?" he replied, pulling the monitor over to himself and turning it on. "Poor old girl, you're in a bit of rough shape, aren't you?" he crooned to the ship, shoving on his glasses with one hand as he twisted the monitor's dials with the other. "But I'm sure you'll be alright soon."

It quickly displayed a city map. "Oh, clever me," the Doctor said to himself as he peered at the screen. "I knew it." He turned his head to look at Rory and Jake. "He's headed for our flat. See?" he pointed to the screen. "This is the last scan he did before he left. He's looking for you and Amy. I wonder how he felt, getting a little more than he bargained for?" 

Probably very _not happy,_ he thought. Serves him right.

"So what do we do now?" asked Jake. "Go back to your place and wait for him to show up?"

"No," said the Doctor, his attention back on the screen as he pushed a few buttons. "Ganglies'll find him before he ever makes it. Hopefully they haven't already. I just need to..." He twisted the biggest dial, and a new display popped up. "Aha! Got him! Looks like he's only about three miles from here." 

"Who will find him?" asked Rory. _"Ganglies?"_

The Doctor shook his head dismissively as he pulled off his glasses and stuck them in his inner jacket pocket. "It's not their real name, of course. None of us know what it is. Some people," he looked at Jake, "started calling them that because they're, well, _gangly._ Long-limbed. Lanky. It's their only distinctive feature. Well, that and the chilling dead eyes," he added with a shudder. "They're aliens. Bloke who tried to kill me at the music club tonight? He was one of them." He switched off the monitor and started toward the door. "C'mon, let's go rescue him."

"But why would the Doctor be in danger?" Rory hadn't moved.

"Because he's me, and trust me, they won't be able to tell the difference."

"A parallel you."

The Doctor sighed internally. He thought he had sidestepped that rather brilliantly earlier, and felt some of the annoyance that had, up until now, amused him to think of the other Time Lord experiencing.

"There are no parallel Time Lords," he reluctantly admitted, since Rory wasn't about to let it go. "It's, well, it's a very long story, one we don't have time for now. I'll explain more in the car."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all who have stuck with this story! Up next- at long last, "the Confrontation." Chaos ahead!


	22. Chapter 21

The last time Rory sat in this particular backseat he hadn't had _any_ interest in studying the sharp outline of John's (no, _the Doctor's,_ as the man had tersely informed him was still his real name) profile. Not that Rory was yet able to think of him that way. The three of them had left the TARDIS several minutes earlier, but, aside from the correction to his name, Rory had learned little else about the living enigma seated directly in front of him. 

And now he couldn't take his eyes off of him.

_How did this man even exist?_ was a question at the top of his list. The Doctor was supposed to be the last of his kind. Although John hadn't just claimed to be a Time Lord- but the Doctor himself. 

It wasn't that Rory didn't believe him; now that he knew the truth he could see that much of the man's behavior since the moment he'd met him had practically screamed _Doctor._ That, combined with his peculiar eyes and the way the TARDIS had reacted to him- how could it be denied? 

Yet, aside from the fact that there was somehow inexplicably two of him, there was something about "John" that didn't fit the persona of _the Doctor_ at all. It wasn't just the unfamiliar face, Rory thought, taking in this man's finer bone structure and his paler, freckled skin. Although he had never seen another incarnation of the Time Lord he traveled with, he'd heard about regeneration and knew the Doctor had had other bodies. No, it was something else, something about this skinny, side-burned version that was as glaringly wrong as sunshine at midnight.

_Domestics._

This person, who was somehow the Doctor, was living a life that the Time Lord Rory knew would completely disdain. Were he exiled to Earth for any amount of time, there was no question that he'd view it as nothing less than a personal tragedy and the severest of punishments. More, the manic alien seemed almost incapable of even comprehending the basics of how to live a linear human life; not only would the slowness of it drive him bonkers, but such mundane things as holding a job or paying bills were utterly foreign to him. 

But the Doctor sitting in front of him was living that very life; the same kind of life as Rory. And not only that, he seemed blissfully _happy_ doing it.

It was impossible already; trying to picture his very alien friend in such a human-y, domestic scene, yet even more incredible was the fact that this Doctor was also married. Not as a ruse, not as part of some quick-witted plan to save all creation, but a real, normal marriage to an ordinary human woman, one who had parents on Earth and everything. Rory supposed he should be wondering how exactly that had come about, but really, it would be a waste of time questioning John's ( _the Doctor's_ ) motive here. It was obvious as anything that he was madly in love with Rose. 

And then Rory suddenly recalled a conversation with his own Doctor, on a colorful alien beach, not so very long ago. 

 

_"When you've had your hearts broken, it's usually a touchy subject."_

 

This evening may have risen up a lot of new questions, but Rory wondered if he just might have stumbled upon the unexpected answer to an old one.

 

"That's quite enough now, thanks," said John, out of nowhere.

Rory blinked. "Sorry?" 

"Enough speculating," John clarified, and he looked out his window. "I can practically hear the wheels going round in your head."

Rory felt a very familiar sort of annoyance. "I wouldn't need to speculate if you'd explain like you promised."

John sighed mightily, as if he was hoping Rory had forgotten about that. Like that was half likely.

"Okay. I am the Doctor," he began slowly, "like I said, but I'm not a parallel version. I'm _literally_ him, as he was in the form of his tenth incarnation. We are the same man, and by that I mean same life, same memories, same everything. Well, up until the day he went and split himself in two, that is. We obviously went our separate ways, made our own lives, after that."

"So what does that mean, exactly? Another little Time Lord trick, splitting yourself in two to make a new one?" Rory was struggling to grasp this very otherworldly concept. "Like cloning? Is this, like, how your people reproduce or something?"

John grinned at his own reflection in the dark car window and reminded a snickering Jake to turn at the next street. "No, most definitely _not_ ," was his adamant response. "Trust me when I say there's never been another one like me. Spontaneous biological meta-crisis. My creation was entirely accidental, and aside from the fact that a friend and I saved all of reality soon after it happened, your Doctor would tell you that my existence was the very _last_ thing he ever wanted." 

His voice went low and quiet, sounding even the slightest bit regretful as he ran a hand through the short hair on the back of his head. "When I came along it ruined everything he'd been fool enough to let himself dream of, so I can't imagine he'll be too thrilled to see me again."

Rory thought he understood what that meant, and was silent.

"Okay Jake, if you take a left here, he'll be somewhere on this street, maybe a mile or so down," said John, leaning forward to try and see out farther through the dark.

Jake raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Unless he decided to go another way, or hopped in a cab or something." The man was so quick to doubt anything that came out of the Time Lord's mouth, Rory noticed, yet he hadn't batted an eyelash at this whole _two Doctors_ idea. Must be old news to him.

"He won't. He'll take the shortest, most logical route. I should know, since he's me, at least he used to be, and that's exactly what I would do. He won't take a cab because he won't have any money and I'd be willing to wager that he doesn't even have his psychic paper. Does he, Rory?" John turned around in his seat to look at him.

"Um, right. Yeah, I've actually got the psychic paper. He gave it to Amy this morning so we could get a bit of spending money." He pulled it out of his jeans' pocket and showed him.

John smirked triumphantly and faced front again. "Keep an eye out, Rory. Cos here's the other thing. I _know_ we're getting closer to him," he said, and tapped his temple meaningfully.

"He wears an old tweed jacket and bow-tie," offered Rory. "Floppy brown hair. Always manages to look like he doesn't belong, no matter where we are."

"Oh, so he really is you," Jake remarked with a grin and a sideways glance in John's direction. "This should be beyond interesting, though I can't say I'm exactly looking forward to it. Just one of you's been enough trouble, and I'm not so sure this universe can handle two."

John tipped his head back in exasperation. " _Okay_ , Jake, I-"

"Just make sure you get him in the car as quick as possible, alright?" Jake wasn't joking anymore, and kept his eyes fixed on the road. "Somehow I get the idea that Rose won't be too thrilled if I let anything happen to _either_ of you tonight. The last thing I need is two psychically influenced aliens loose on the street, both running away from me toward their respective deaths, in opposite directions. Cos you know that's exactly how it will go."

John sighed but didn't deny the distinct possibility. "Rory can help you."

Rory caught his own name. "What?"

Jake just shook his head but John turned around in the seat again and looked at Rory seriously. "What Jake means is that this species have a little trick, simple but powerful, which makes them especially dangerous. See, the thing is, they can't hurt me, not unless they get close enough to touch, and that's not easy, because not only am I very fast, but extremely clever."

"Ah, and you're _definitely_ him."

John twisted his mouth into a grin. "However," he continued, "they are masterful telepaths, and with just a small amount of mental manipulation can, even from a considerable distance, convince their chosen victim to _come to them_. Willingly and happily, wrapped up with a bow if that's what they want. It's really quite brilliant, merciful even, when you think about it. Every moment pleasant until you breathe your last."

He was going for flippant, didn't even come close to pulling it off, and Rory shuddered. "I think it sounds terrifying."

"Well," admitted John, "I certainly don't enjoy the prospect of being entirely out of control of my own actions." Something in his expression shifted as he turned his face away. "Anyway, if the other Doctor or I start wandering off for no apparent reason, Jake will need your help."

"Um, okay." Somehow Rory suspected helping wouldn't be as simple as John made it sound, but he let it go.

They drove on in silence for a few more blocks, until Rory saw John's thin shoulders stiffen. "Slow down, Jake," he said quietly. "He's here; just up the street. Waiting for us."

Jake nodded and didn't question him. Sure enough, less than a minute later a very familiar figure came into view, up ahead on the left, leaning casually against a brick building as though he were waiting for a bus. "Yeah, that's him," Rory confirmed, and although Jake did pull over he was shaking his head like he was confused.

"Wait a sec-" 

He was cut off by the resounding _slam_ of a car door.

"Good job, you managed to wait for us to stop moving this time," Jake grumbled and looked up at Rory in the rearview mirror. "So why's that other one look different now? What, is he also some sort of a shapeshifter or something?" 

"Something," he agreed vaguely, and Jake merely huffed, _"bloody alien doesn't tell me anything,"_ as though he'd spent so much time around the Doctor that next to nothing could really surprise him anymore. A fully understanding Rory smiled but didn't respond, all his attention devoted to seeing how this fascinating little reunion just might play out.

After what he'd just learned about John and the Doctor's shared history, Rory had predicted there'd be some rivalry. But now, as he got his first good look at them here, together, he began to wonder if he ought to be _worried_ about it.

The dual Time Lords faced one another in a silent stare-down, and the tension between them was dark, heavy and palpable. John stood near the vehicle with his back to them, spine stiff, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Rory looked past him to his own Doctor, who lounged lazily against the brick, arms folded over his chest. His expression could be clearly seen under the yellow light of the street lamps, immediately recognizable as _casual disinterest._ One of the Time Lord's favorites when he was trying to be especially maddening.

Or threatening. 

Wasn't this meant to be some sort of a rescue? The atmosphere felt more like the climatic act in a suspenseful Shakespearean drama. King Hamlet versus Claudius. Claudius, the man who'd not only stolen Hamlet's throne but-

_Married his love._

Oh boy.

This was not going to be good.

Both Rory and Jake rolled their windows down.

The Doctor in tweed finally broke the extended silence. "Now, there's a face I haven't seen in a very long time," he said, the corner of his mouth curving up as if something greatly amused him. "In fact, the last time I saw it, I'm fairly sure it was in my own mirror."

He tilted his head and squinted, as if closely examining the other's features. "Hmm. It's mostly familiar, anyway. I just don't remember it being quite _that_ old."

John straightened up and yanked his hands out of his pockets. "Really?" he challenged. _"Really?_ Like you can talk! How's it been working out for you, eh, trying to intimidate aliens and be all scary, when you look like you should still have a _bedtime?_ Or is that why you're dressing like somebody's old Gramps these days? Trying to gain a little extra respect?"

Rory rolled his eyes. Not so Hamlet and Claudius, then. Unless it was Hamlet and Claudius, age five.

The other Time Lord scowled and pushed away from the wall, hands automatically going up to tug on his bow-tie. "This is _cool,_ not that I'd expect you to know. From the looks of it, you're still stuck in the same fashion rut," he added, raking a critical eye over his previous self. "I must ask, _was_ it ever cool to pair trainers with a suit?"

"It's geek chic," retorted John hotly. "I've made this look _famous_ here, for your information!"

"Famous, eh? You sure you don't mean infamous-"

"Oi!" yelled Jake abruptly, leaning out the window. "Are you two ladies gonna just stand out here and bicker all night about each other's bloody _outfits?_ Get in the car! Might I remind you that your even being out here is dangerous!"

Rory was shocked when this outburst actually got his Doctor's attention. But it did- he turned curious eyes on Jake, and then looked up and down the street with sudden, focused interest. As far as London neighborhoods went, this one couldn't really have looked less dangerous- it was a quiet residential area, which was at this hour practically deserted of passersby, its peacefulness occasionally interrupted only by the passing flash of headlights. But in the strange workings of the Doctor's mind, this fact probably only added to the fascinating mystery of it all. If Jake wanted to get him _away_ from here he ought to have known better.

Yet maybe a distraction was exactly what those two needed right now, before things between them escalated any further. To the average bystander the whole interaction may have had the appearance of a petty squabble, but Rory knew the Doctor. He'd seen him _squabble_ before, in an eerily similar way, with Daleks.

But neither of them was getting in the car, and the Doctor who lived here, the one who had no new mystery to solve and was used to Jake's yelling, wasn't distracted from the quarrel at all.

"So where were you headed this time?" he asked, his tone high and sharply sarcastic, a frightening forced lightness. He stroked his chin dramatically, pretending to think, and in profile Rory saw his eyebrows shoot up. "I've got it! You were trying to go and see _Elvis_ again, weren't you? That never does work out very well, and I should know, since the last time I set the coordinates for 1950's New York I ended up in London. So it's totally understandable, almost expected even, that when you tried it again this time you accidentally breached an impassible wall into entirely different universe."

The Doctor was silent, his eyes dark and guarded under lowered brows.

"Or! Maybe it wasn't an accident," John continued brightly, rocking on the balls of his feet, "maybe you just wanted to see this world's version of Elvis? He is still alive here, true, but I'm sorry to tell you that he's not very entertaining. He's a real-estate agent." 

He paused, folded his arms, and when he spoke again his tone was low and deadly serious. "But other than that, I can't imagine _any_ reason for your presence here."

John's implication was clear. But- Rory was sure that the Doctor couldn't have come here to... no, he had to have a perfectly reasonable explanation. And now was the time for him to clear things up, to apologize for any misunderstanding. To end this little showdown.

Or he could disregard his other self's legitimate concerns in favor of haughtily changing the subject.

"Seems like we both have questions then, because I can't imagine _any_ reason why you might be in such danger out here."

Growling, John closed his eyes and drew a long, frustrated breath through his nose. "It's not just me," he snapped, "it's dangerous for anyone who isn't psi-null. Obviously, that includes you. Trust me, I wouldn't have been looking for you otherwise." He turned away from him, lips pressed thin and tight, and placed a hand on the car. "Jake's right, we should go. Come on."

"To your _flat,_ I suppose?"

Rory hadn't known it was possible to cram so much scorn into such a small word. And since the Doctor had already been on his way to said _flat,_ his statement could have no purpose other than to infuriate. Not cool, especially since he'd just found out that John had come to save him from possible harm. 

And so ended their reckless banter, their back-and-forth tossing of words. It had been like the tossing of a live hand grenade, and the Doctor had just yanked the pin. There was no preventing the explosion now.

"Yes, to my _flat!_ Where did you suppose _we_ would live?" John ground out, white-knuckled fists clenched as he spun back around, not even attempting to hide his anger anymore. Rory did not miss how the Doctor's eyes dropped to the other's left hand on the word _'we',_ and lingered on the band he wore there, which in spite of the darkness still managed to throw off the occasional flicker of gold.

"On the streets, perhaps?" John spat, his volume increasing with every word. "Forever with Rose's parents? In case you've forgotten, _you_ got to keep the TARDIS!"

And for the first time since this encounter began, the Doctor totally lost his cool. His eyes flashed hot, furious fire, and he stalked forward into John's face until their noses were only inches apart.

"Yes, I did, but you'll forgive me if I don't apologize, since _you got to keep Rose!"_

 

********

 

A sudden gust of wind, strong and surprisingly cold, was the only thing that dared make a sound as it swept by, stirring up the leaves on the few trees dotting the edges of the street. Rory immediately dropped his eyes to his lap, asking himself why he felt so shocked. After all, weren't his old friend's words just a simple confirmation of what he'd already pretty much worked out on his own? Maybe it was because he hadn't truly been able believe it yet. 

Or maybe it was the Time Lord's face that did it, since Rory had rarely, if ever, seen him so unguarded. 

As he chanced a quick look back out to see if his friend was okay, it was by pure coincidence that he was nearly blinded by a bright white flash of lightning, which was punctuated seconds later by a rolling peal of thunder. It was a clashing, rough forebear of an oncoming storm, and Rory really, really hoped it would _not_ prove to be the perfect metaphor for what might come next tonight.

Blinking away the spots in his vision, he noticed that although the Doctor had backed off from his other self, he still struggled for control over his emotions as he stood there, breathing heavily, fists balled at his sides. His eyes, locked with John's, were huge and dark and haunted, and in them Rory read some of the heavy price he had paid to come here. Whatever the Doctor's motives might have been, it was obvious that his decision to do so had not been an easy one.

John must have come to the same realization, because suddenly his shoulders sagged and his posture lost some of its defensiveness. "Yeah," he said quietly, "I did, but that was your own fault, you know. And no matter how much I'm sure you've regretted it since, it is far, far too late for you to change your mind now."

Swallowing painfully, the Doctor relaxed slightly and gave him a tiny nod. "I know. I just-" Closing his eyes, he pressed his mouth into a line and shook his head. "Never mind. But believe me, please, when I tell you it's not why I'm here. I didn't even want to come."

"Then why...?" John still sounded faintly disbelieving, despite the sincerity in the other's tone.

"To help. I'm here to help. Because something's gone quite wrong, hasn't it? Something bad, and you have absolutely no idea how to sort it." John simply stared at him and the Doctor considered his pinstriped counterpart closely.

His eyes widened in sudden realization. "Oh... you think you're gonna die, don't you?" 

Paling, John gaped at him. "What-"

"Eh, it's a long story. Far too long to tell out on this street corner," he added, looking up as heavy wet drops began to scatter and fall, decorating both men and pavement with random sun-shaped blotches. "Besides, I'm afraid my old friend Jake Simmonds is going to hyperventilate if you and I stand here any longer," he quipped, casting an amused glance to the nervous driver.

"Yes, Jake, we know each other," he told him, straightening his tweed jacket as he walked over to the car. "Old Preachers days? We defeated the Cybermen together. I'm the same man, just happened to change my face since you saw it last."

Smiling resignedly, Jake reached a hand out the car's window to shake the Doctor's hand as John jumped in the other side and slammed the door. "Welcome back, Doctor. I believe you. I heard about the meta-crisis long ago, just not the face-changing. But I've seen this other you do weirder things."

The Doctor managed a chuckle as he joined Rory in the backseat. "Hello, Rory," he greeted him tiredly, "did you and Amy have a nice day? I seem to recall mentioning something about trouble earlier, and the two of you always ending up in the middle of it. I really wish you'd stop doing that." 

"Speak for yourself," said Rory.

Acknowledging that truth with half a smile, the Doctor sank back against the seat. "I really don't want to go back to your flat," he told John quietly as the car began to move, and thankfully, this time he only sounded serious, and not mocking. "We can better resolve whatever your problem is back at the TARDIS."

"No," John told him, and the Doctor jerked his head up, frowning his surprise. "Tempting, but no. I know exactly what you're thinking, and I'm telling you right now that it's too late. Rose already knows you're here. And I don't resolve anything without her input."

Only Rory saw the brief flicker of terror in the Doctor's eyes, and his voice betrayed none of it. "How very domestic of you."

John tensed. "And your point is...?"

Leaning back, the Doctor closed his eyes. "Sorry. I'm just surprised that you'd want me in your home, if you had a choice about it."

Rain drummed hard against the windows as John turned to look at him. "But that's just it- I don't have a choice, not really. Whatever it was that possessed you to come here, the fact remains that you're here, and Rose knows it. You aren't gonna hide from her, you're not gonna run, you're not gonna _leave_ again without giving her a proper goodbye. You _hurt_ her, the last time, and if you accomplish nothing else by this little pop back into her life, you're going to at least fix that."

After a nearly imperceptible nod the Doctor turned away from them all to stare silently out his window. Rory tried hard not to stare at the back of his head. But he couldn't help worrying. The Doctor seemed more than overwhelmed right now. But there was something else too, in the curve of his spine, the dip of his head.

Resignation?

No. More like... _defeat,_ he realized, with a pang of deep sympathy.

Like a man who'd fought a long battle and lost. 

Rory reached a wary hand out and touched his arm. 

"Doctor? Are you-"

But his question was interrupted by John's voice from the front. 

"Hey." His voice had taken on a soft, tender quality, and Rory looked up to see him speaking into his mobile phone. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was on the other end of the line.

Rory saw that John now had the Doctor's undivided attention.

"We're fine." He listened for a few seconds. "Yeah, _all_ of us. Anyway, I just wanted you to know we're on our way back; should be there in ten minutes or so. You can give it a few before you shut down the disruptor. ...Oh, did you? That sounds fantastic; I'm starving. Okay. See you soon." He took the phone from his ear and ended the call.

"What kind of disruptor?" asked the Doctor, with no apology for eavesdropping.

"Telepathic. Its field covers our entire building, all the way out to the street in front, and unless you or I fancy a week-long, incapacitating headache, it's best if Rose shuts it down for a minute before we drive in."

"Why in the world would you need that?"

"What, you don't know? I was under the impression that you knew everything that's been going on in my life," he snapped. When the Doctor didn't answer, John reached up and scrubbed a hand down his face.

"Alright, alright. I need it, because so far, it's the main thing that's kept them from killing me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all have been waiting FOREVER, so one major reunion for you, coming up next. :) Finally!
> 
> 6-9-14 Just a note to let you know that updates might be slower in coming. I'm no longer very far ahead in what I have written. Chapter 22 WILL be up by Saturday, however.


	23. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to my dear friend YouCleverBoys for her much-needed encouragement and wonderful suggestions for this chapter! Without her, it probably would've taken at least another two weeks to finish!

The thing about dreams is that no matter how vivid they might be, no matter how life-like, there is usually at least one good tell. Something so ridiculous, so incongruous, so far from the realm of reality that even the unconscious mind can notice it. Thirteen-hour clocks. Books without words. Mirrors that glimmer like glass but give off no reflection. Reunions with the long dead.

He was kind of surprised he hadn't thought of it before; that he might be experiencing another TARDIS-induced vision. It was a hope hung on a slender thread, but since it was his last chance of escaping this (relatively) unscathed, the Doctor had deemed searching for dream-clues worthy of his full attention. Besides, his sulky other self had refused to elaborate on the telepathic threat, so he had nothing else to focus on that wasn't slightly panic inducing.

As the Doctor trudged behind the other three men into a rather posh lift he still hadn't given it up as a lost cause. Buttons and floor numbers were studied with anticipatory interest (just like every other mundane thing he'd seen in the last twenty minutes), then glared at. Aggravating correct numerical sequencing. Giving his bicep a vicious pinch, he earned another weird look from Rory. 

"Um, why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"That," Rory gestured with his hand to the Doctor's arm, "you know, pinching yourself."

"I'm not."

"Pretty sure I've seen you do it _at least_ six times now."

The Doctor didn't answer and stared resolutely ahead, schooling his face into what he hoped looked like offended dignity. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Pinstripes look over at him and roll his eyes, giving his head a slow, exasperated shake.

Crossing his arms defensively, the Doctor ignored him too.

So he had no proof that this was a dream, but still, nothing could change the fact that the entire situation had a certain unreality to it. Him, here in Pete's World, about to see Rose again? It was bonkers; he'd have almost sooner believed Gallifrey not destroyed. Bad Wolf Bay had seen the unchangeable end of their story, with a chance of reunion so improbable that afterward he had scarcely ever dared allow himself to think of Rose, much less entertain hopes that they might meet again someday.

At least not until those bloody dreams began.

They'd thoroughly infiltrated his being, prying open long-locked, forbidden places in his mind like a thief intent on robbing him of peace. From that point on, he had thought of Rose almost inescapably. At his weakest he had even given in to fantasizing about somehow getting her back.

It went without saying that those fantasies had never once gone anything like _this._

His most recent imaginings had always had him rescuing her. Sometimes from an alien prison, or from the tallest tower of an ancient castle, but most often... from his double. In his mind, especially lately, Other Him had turned out even more dangerous than he'd long ago predicted (but not really believed) him to be. The rescue always ended with a grateful Rose who couldn't wait to be spirited away from the man.

With a weary sigh, the Doctor glanced around at the lift's dark paneled walls, at its three other occupants, and shook his head. This wasn't a fantasy, it wasn't a fairytale, and he certainly wasn't Rose's knight in shining armor. If that title belonged to anyone, it belonged to the man standing next to him, the one who wore his old face, a ring on his finger, and an expression that was much closer to _frightened_ than _frightening._

Oh yes, this was all too real, Rose didn't need rescuing, if she ever did she certainly wasn't going to be waiting around for _him,_ and _blimey, was this lift ride ever going to end?_

Suddenly the Doctor felt trapped in the small, enclosed space, and fought off an ever-increasing feeling of panic. Although the urge to flee had been his constant companion since the instant he'd arrived in this universe, it had never, never been stronger than at this moment. 

_What, oh what, in the name of all things good and sane, was he doing here?_ His muscles knotted and tightened as every fear he'd ever conjured up about this situation began to hit him hard and fast. He couldn't do this! What must Rose be thinking right now? How in the world was she going to react? Did she believe, like her husband obviously had, that he'd come to steal her away? 

Well, he admitted to himself, if it weren't for said husband, such a suspicion wouldn't be half wrong. 

But that minuscule spark of hope had been ground out, like under the heel of a boot, the instant he'd seen the Other's left hand. 

And now that all hope was gone, emotion and long-ingrained instinct were eager to take its place.

_Run._

The tiny word beat throughout his entire body like a mantra, familiar and powerful and trustworthy. The Doctor slipped a hand inside his jacket. He fingered his sonic screwdriver, gave Sandshoes a hasty sideways glance, and then stared at the lift's control panel. 

It would be so easy. 

_Run._

He deftly slipped the sonic from his pocket and dropped his hand to conceal it behind his leg.

_Run-_

And without warning, the doors slid apart, announcing their arrival. Like they didn't care at all that they'd just ruined his beautiful plan to make a break for it.

_No going back._

For the first time in this incarnation the Doctor fervently wished for alcohol. The stronger the better, and in very large quantities. No matter how bad it tasted he wouldn't spit it out.

Watching the others exit the lift, he took a deep breath and told himself he was wound far too tight. It was high time to keep his head! He had been obsessing over this possibility for far too long, that was his problem, he had turned it into a thing of dread, and now he was positively overreacting. This was Rose Tyler, for Rassilon's sake! The best friend he'd ever had. She was fantastic.

So fantastic that he had wanted to possess her. He, the wandering Lord of Time, who had always been content with simply looking, who had never before needed to possess anything. 

He still loved her and he hadn't seen her for years. He was a fool; who knew what he might do once he actually came within touching distance? Once he actually laid eyes on her? The eyes, oh they were treacherous things, capable of persuading the heart beyond all reason. And if he was a fool, well, his double was an even bigger one for bringing him here. That idiot. Certainly he, of all people, should know better than to trust him. Especially now, when he was heading into such dangerous emotional territory.

He certainly didn't trust himself.

"Doctor? Are you alright?"

He looked up to see Rory was waiting for him, eyebrows raised, his hand spread over the edge of the lift's sliding door to keep it from closing. 

The Doctor frowned and joined his friend in a tiny, overly warm passage. The only door in it stood ajar, and drifting out from the area within was much cooler air that carried the scent of Thai food. As it swept by he breathed it in, and the everyday normalcy of it was so unexpected that it almost felt like an assault. The Doctor went rigid, squeezing his eyes shut. Daft, really, that such a small, stupid thing could push him back to the edge, but with the odds increasingly in favor of this not being a dream, he was giving _run_ some serious reconsideration when a single lucid thought floated by and stayed him, one sturdy, saving plank in a sea of emotion. 

He was here for a reason. Rose needed him. She may not need rescuing but she needed his help, and although he wasn't yet entirely sure why, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure she got it. 

He blinked his eyes open when he felt a touch to his arm. Rory's brow was furrowed with grave concern, and the Doctor smiled reassuringly at his friend.

"I'm fine, Rory. Go on in, I just need a mo'."

With a lingering backwards glance, Rory reluctantly left him alone. The Doctor hung back just a few moments longer, hidden off to the side of an open door that felt like a precipice, until he had donned every last piece of his sturdy, dependable armor. 

And then there was nothing left to do but jump.

"Geronimo," he said to himself, with a tiny ironic laugh. Looking down, he walked forward and stepped inside, resolutely staring at the smooth wood floor until he heard the door click firmly behind him.

 

*******

 

He had to force himself to not touch his face, his coat, his shaggy hair, just so he could maintain the illusion. Because right now, it was so, so easy to pretend that perhaps the last few years ( _centuries_ ) of his life had been the dream, and that his regeneration, their long separation, had never really happened at all. 

This was certainly no vision. The instant the Doctor had lifted his head and laid eyes on her he'd known it as fact. This time it was real; this was Rose, really, truly Rose, his Rose- so vividly _pink and yellow_ that the Doctor wondered how he'd ever mistaken his watercolor dreams as anything else. No figment of mind, no vision, no matter how tangible, could ever possibly do justice to the real Rose Tyler as she was before him now- beautiful, alive, and in the flesh.

His first glimpse had been of her soft profile; she was standing just a few steps away, speaking with his other self. If he'd noticed the man at all it might have felt like some strange out-of-body experience, but in the 1.37 seconds it took for Rose to become the sole focus of his mental spotlight everything else- every _one_ else- had just as quickly blurred and faded away.

He lost every steely inch of his armor the second her gaze fixed directly to his. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, he knew his face was probably a full-color display of every single forbidden emotion he'd ever held for her, but he couldn't do a single thing about it. He couldn't do anything but stare, almost disbelieving, at the dearly beloved girl that he was never meant to see again.

For her own part, Rose silently studied him, worrying a reddened bottom lip between her teeth. She stood there, so quiet, for so long that the Doctor tensed and began wondering if this face was about to experience its very first Tyler slap. Why was she looking at him like that? He couldn't read her expression at all. _Was she angry with him? Indifferent? Oh no, did she even recognize-_

When the corners of her mouth turned up he was so taken aback that he nearly stopped breathing. And then, when her face blossomed with a wide, genuine, Rose Tyler smile, his feeling was that of one who'd fought his way through a thick, overgrown jungle and found, to his joy and profound astonishment, wide open sky and the welcoming lights of home.

Every fear and doubt was momentarily forgotten. He didn't mean to reach his hand out, but before he could snatch it back she came close and took it, threading their fingers together, her oh so familiar soft warm palm nestled perfectly against his larger one. Warmth spread from his fingertips to foot-soles and they beamed at each other, even as the Doctor inwardly cursed himself. Two minutes with her and he was already stupid. Already pushing boundaries. He didn't _want_ to remember how badly he needed this.

He should have let go in an attempt to minimize the damage. Instead, he told the unwelcome thought to shove-off, clutched her hand tighter, and scrambled for something brilliant to say. 

He had it. 

"Hello, Rose Tyler."

Her beaming smile widened before it faltered, tears gathering in her eyes. She wiped them away hastily with a swipe of her hand and swallowed before responding. "Hello, Doctor. 'M so...," her voice hitched a little, "so glad to see you're alright. I've been worried about you for such a long time."

He pretended to scoff at that. "No, no, no worrying about me. You know that I always get by." 

Rose arched a dark, perfect eyebrow and gave him a pointed once-over. 

Oh, she hadn't changed a bit. He hid his glee behind a wrinkled nose and reached his free hand up to rub at his prominent chin. "Probably a bit too late to prevent your noticing that I've managed to get myself a new face? Again?"

Rose laughed breathily. "Yeah, sorry, couldn't miss that." Again her gaze drifted up to his hair, his forehead, and this time slowly worked its way down, inspecting him closely, memorizing every new detail. He probably would've been self-conscious under such scrutiny- if a certain _something_ in her eyes as she did it hadn't made him swallow hard. 

Not like it was _new_ something. He knew it well; oh yes, for a brief but heady portion of his over-long life it had been his constant torment. It had made him distrust his own actions and had addled his brain, but it was also the something that thrilled him, healed him, and made him want to keep living. Her heart in her eyes, always revealing so much, long before her words ever had. And when he saw it again now he finally understood that _this_ was what he'd been most afraid of. Not of more unfulfilled longing, not of yet another goodbye, no, his single greatest fear in this entire terrifying scenario had been the prospect of looking into Rose Tyler's eyes and finding that she no longer loved him.

But she did. She _did._ The _how_ and the _why_ would probably elude him forever but he didn't care, and as dread's hand loosened its icy-fingered grasp on his hearts for the first time in months his only giddy thought was that Rose wasn't standing nearly close enough. He was about to attempt to remedy that when her light-hearted voice stalled him.

"I like it," Rose pronounced with a tongue-touched grin, and with the buzz in his head it took a blinking second for him to recall just what exactly she was referring to. "Jus' gonna be hard to get used to seeing you look so young. You look like a kid," she teased.

 _"Oi"_ was probably the appropriate response to this.

"Yeah? Well, I think _you_ look beautiful."

Rose blinked her surprise at his words, frowning a bit, cheeks stained pink. And he knew that now he should either shut up or apologize. However, him doing things he really ought not had been the theme of his life for the past few weeks, and now he was used to it.

"I miss you," he breathed, throwing caution to the wind, bone-tired of missed opportunities. And then, pressing his palm to the small of her back, he clutched her to himself without asking for anyone's permission.

How ironic that when he actually had a chance with her he could never bring himself to say these things, and now he can't seem to stop. But she must not have minded too much; Rose returned the embrace eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Then his nose was in her hair and he was remembering the night after she'd lost her face, the aftermath of Krop Tor. Out of centuries of life they were among some of the best moments he'd ever had, those moments of exhilaration, joy and safety and love, when he'd swung her in his arms. 

He had never felt anything like it since.

And for the millionth, billionth time since those unequaled moments, the Doctor deeply regretted not having given in to the almost overpowering desire he'd had to kiss her. 

_If he had done, would he even be here right now?_

It wasn't really a question. If he'd kissed her then, it would have forever broken all barriers between them, and she would have never needed to ask him to finish that interrupted sentence. He'd have freely given her the words long before he lost her, long before they ended up on that beach, and there would've been no _choosing_. No matter how much better of a life she might've had with a human version. 

The Doctor was almost grateful when the loud sound of a throat clearing stopped his mind from continuing its reckless, useless march down _that_ well-worn path. He loosened his grip on Rose, noting with no small satisfaction that she seemed to be in no hurry to let him go. 

But he dared not hold her any longer, for reasons that had nothing to do with placating some annoying, intruding Other Self. He pulled away and took a small step back. And although Rose was still smiling at him, his grim-faced double was most definitely not. His countenance told the Doctor that he knew _exactly_ what he'd been thinking about, and he tugged Rose into himself with a firm arm around her shoulders, looking like jealousy and possessiveness made human. 

Dark, stormy brown eyes bored into his own and the message was clear. _Hands off the blonde._ Funny, he never thought he'd see the very same look that he'd so frequently given to Jack Harkness directed toward himself. 

Rose looked up at her husband, fixing him with a reproachful glare. "Relax, Doctor, he's only saying hello."

"Oh, is _that_ what that was?" he drawled, still firmly engaged in the stare-down.

Rose scowled and squirmed out of his arms, which forced him to finally make eye contact with her. "What do you expect? He was my best friend, same as you. We've missed each other, so what? You of all people should be able to understand how that feels!"

Despite looking slightly chastised he refused to respond, dimple deep and mouth set in a firm line.

Rose held her ground, folding her arms across her chest, and the Doctor looked away from the couple and brushed some imaginary lint from his jacket. The blissful blur of the last few minutes had abruptly deteriorated into something else, something confusing and irksome and off, but he was still heated by enough of his own jealousy, which kept him from apologizing for it. 

Rain, drumming merrily against the skylights, was loud in the quiet room and her voice barely rose above its staccato beat when she spoke again a moment later.

"Let's talk about this privately for a minute, yeah? Not in front of everyone?"

"Fine."

 _Everyone?_ The word caught in his ear for some reason as he watched them disappear together through the nearest doorway. Then its exact implication sunk in, and his jaw dropped as it forcefully dawned on him that he, Rose, his duplicate, and their drama weren't exactly _alone_ in this flat. With great reluctance, the Doctor slowly looked off to his right and yep, Rory Williams, his old friend and current companion, was here too- slouching against the back of a TARDIS blue sofa, and regarding him curiously with a small, knowing smile on his face. 

A surge of fear hit. _Had he been that obvious?_ Half a second's retrospect told him that _oh yes, he had been._ The Doctor cringed and hurriedly looked away from Rory.

Only to discover Jake, leaning against a wall. He too appeared to be so extremely interested in the little scene unfolding in front of him that the Doctor couldn't maintain eye contact with him either. 

His eyes were still flitting about helplessly for a safe place to land when he saw her. 

_Oh, no._

Uncomfortable, even outright embarrassing, that he could handle, but this- this was just plain bad. Very, very bad. How could he-

_How could he have forgotten about Amy?_

His ginger-haired best friend sat snugly ensconced in the sofa, obviously injured with her swollen foot propped up on two colorful pillows, white bandages swaddling one arm and hand. And when Amy's dark eyes finally met his, her expression was neither curious nor interested. The Doctor couldn't guess with any certainty what she was thinking or feeling, actually. Only that it was really, very, most definitely, _not good._

He resisted the urge to grimace as his mind quickly replayed his last few actions through her eyes. First in the List of Bad: he'd apparently outed, in a rather spectacular fashion, his long-held feelings for a small blonde human girl. Feelings he knew Amy thought him too alien to be capable of, and feelings he had intended to _forever_ keep secret. But the Doctor didn't have time to fully ponder that one before he discovered the Second Bad Thing (oh horror): Amy had been waiting for him. She had most likely expected that his entire attention would be on _her_ from the moment he'd entered the flat. And for good reason. Under any other circumstances, it would have been, especially since she was injured. She was his Amelia. His Pond. She was long accustomed to being the center of his world. 

Normally she was.

_But not right now._

Not while Rose was about, and by the hurt buried deep under the glare Amy was giving him, he was certain that she full well knew it.

The Doctor released the deep breath he'd been holding and made a grasping effort to engage her. "Good to see you, Pond."

She was unresponsive and silent, paler than he'd ever seen her, but at least she didn't look away from him. The Doctor prayed for her to say something. Anything. Even yelling would be better than this. Yelling would be good, actually; he liked yelling. It was so very _Pond-like._

His heavy spirits lifted slightly when she finally pursed her lips.

"Good to see you too, Raggedy Man," was her belated reply. "Or at least, it's good to see that _something_ has finally gotten you off of that stupid ship of yours, as I certainly wasn't able to do it. Now get over here, you moron, and you better make yourself mighty comfortable, because you have a helluva lot of explaining to do."


	24. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks once again to YouCleverBoys for her help, suggestions, and encouragement!

_A little bit earlier...._

It was already late and the boys still hadn't returned with the Doctor. The evening was promising to go on for quite some time yet, so Rose had gone into the kitchen to retrieve a few take-out menus, since neither she nor John had ever managed to find time for dinner. Even Amy felt like her last meal was a distant memory, so she was loving this idea.

The conversation they'd just finished had been interesting, to say the least. To cast a bit more light on why John and Jake had felt the need to retrieve the Doctor immediately, Rose had told Amy about some unidentified creatures lurking about recently who seemed bent on harming other telepathic species. Yes, she'd admitted readily, they were aliens, which led into Rose telling about an agency called Torchwood, run by her father, which was her and John's actual place of employment. She didn't give a ton of details, just that they were alien experts, and that her time traveling with the Doctor had left her well equipped for the job. All in all, it was extremely interesting, and answered a lot of the questions Amy had had about the mysterious couple. 

She found Rose to be quite open, actually- about everything except what Amy really wanted to know. Rose had refused to explain why she was so convinced that the Doctor would have no desire to see her, ending with only 'it's up to him if he wants to tell you.' Ha. Real likely, that. And guessing at it was difficult since she just couldn't imagine her best friend holding a grudge like that. Amy herself had gotten into loads of arguments, even out and out shouting matches with the Time Lord, but she had never once worried that she could possibly make him so angry that he'd never want to see her again. It was just so... so disloyal. Amy knew he loved her far too much to even think of such a thing. 

Well, Amy thought, adjusting her position again to better accommodate her aching ankle, maybe Rose was never as close to him as I am. 

"Do you like Thai food?" called Rose from the kitchen.

"Rory and I love it." 

"Curry okay?" 

"Yes, but you might want to get another dish as well. Something not so spicy. The Doctor won't eat it."

"He won't?" Rose poked her head out from around the corner. "Well, I suppose his tastes have changed again. Please tell me he still likes bananas."

Amy laughed. "Likes them? He's living proof that Time Lords are also related to apes."

"Oh, I hope you've told him that." 

"Every chance I get."

Rose giggled and disappeared back into the kitchen.

She definitely seemed more relaxed than she was earlier and Amy was glad. She really didn't feel up to being caught in the middle of some extremely awkward reunion, curious as she was to learn more of what had happened. Amy wondered how the Doctor was faring right now; if he was as nervous about this whole thing as his former companion seemed to be. She knew how he hated drama. Their rows were more like vigorous, spirited debates. True misunderstandings and hurt feelings were rare, but if it happened he always apologized, (the recent incident on Florinia came readily to her mind) so filled with contrition and self-loathing that Amy would often find herself comforting _him._

Unfortunately, it seemed like that might be the case here and Amy was extremely glad she'd forced herself along on this trip. What in the world had the Doctor been thinking? He couldn't deal with such a domestic situation on his own. She smiled to herself, thinking of how her daft alien didn't even realize how lucky he was, having her here to stand up for him. Typical.

After Rose ordered the take-out she rejoined Amy on the sofa, and the two chatted amiably about less sensitive subjects. Twenty minutes later the deliveryman arrived, and Rose was just setting the aromatic containers of food down in the kitchen when her mobile rang. It was John. When Rose ended their conversation she came back out into the lounge to give Amy the update.

"John says they'll be here in about ten minutes. They have the Doctor now, and he's fine. 'M so happy that they found him in time." Although a note of nervousness was back in her voice, she mostly just sounded relieved. Her worry over the Time Lord was, to Amy, just further proof that Rose didn't know him very well. Of course, the Doctor had caused _her_ enough anxiety over the years, but him being threatened by random aliens was pretty low on her list. It was practically his hobby.

Before long they heard shuffling out in the corridor. Rose was up in an instant, hand to mouth, and a sudden feeling of foreboding came over Amy which urged her up as well. But the hot, steady throb of her injury wouldn't allow it, so she gritted her teeth and shifted position instead, catching sight of her puffy, purple toes. She hoped the Doctor wouldn't make too big a fuss when he found out, though she was really looking forward to a treatment with the sonic. Those two little tablets she had swallowed earlier just weren't cutting it anymore.

Jake and John walked in alone, leaving the door hanging open slightly. Jake nodded to Amy as he meandered past her on into the kitchen, while nearer the door Rose hugged her husband in greeting. She spoke with him so quietly that Amy couldn't hear what they were saying. Not that she really cared. Where was the Doctor? Or _Rory,_ for that matter?

Just as her scanty amount of patience ran out Rory appeared. He caught her eye and came over, leaning against the back of the sofa next to her.

"Where's the Doctor?" she asked him, attention intently fixed on the doorway. 

"Hello to you too, dear," said Rory dryly. "He's coming."

And there he was, a stooped silhouette, slipping into the room with dropped head and quiet steps. The sight of him, evidently wishing to be invisible, made Amy forget that ankles existed, and she already had her good foot on the floor by the time he looked up and she saw his face. Exhaling, Amy eased back against the cushions. Somehow she'd misread things because he looked fine- just guarded. He might not be overly thrilled to be here but he was alright. She lifted her hand up catch his attention, knowing he'd relax a bit as soon as he saw her. Not that he'd be happy to find she'd been injured, but all the same he'd use it as an excuse to delay the confrontation. Amy, wholly understanding, would let him get away with it for a few minutes, and then they'd sort out this whole situation together.

If he'd only bother to look her way, that is. But the Doctor had yet to give a millisecond's span of attention to anyone but Rose. He stared as if he were somehow astonished by her presence here, in her very own flat. Like he couldn't quite believe she was real.

Rose turned, quickly locking eyes with the Time Lord, and Amy's upraised hand dropped limply into her lap. Somehow, that first tiny wisp of contact had stripped him of his stony mask, revealing a flushed, vulnerable, slack-jawed expression that Amy had never once seen him wear in all their years together. She didn't like it at all. Didn't like how it hinted at some sort of _history_ between the two; one that was altogether different from what she'd imagined, as his expressive eyes betrayed his feelings as if he were powerless to prevent it.

Betraying the truth. A truth so unlikely that she could easily disregard it if she looked away. But Rose had him caught in her unwavering gaze, and he looked so afraid of her coming reaction that Amy couldn't abandon him, not even in even this small way. 

Instead, she played witness to a confession, unwittingly told when Rose finally handed the Doctor a smile and he lit up with a radiant, feverish, _unmistakable_ sort of joy. And she knew. Amy was lucky enough to have seen that look on Rory's face countless times, when he looked at her. Had just as often felt it on her own.

Problem was, she had just never, _ever,_ expected to see it on the Time Lord.

It had always comforted Amy to picture life in the way the Doctor described time. Ever flowing, ever changing, anything could happen and most of the time you couldn't control it, but some points were fixed. These were the knots that held all the other threads together; they kept everything from unraveling. From falling to pieces. 

Goodness knew Amy loved being in control, and she held tightly to her knots, her reliable convictions, whenever she felt she might not be. They were always safe. Anything might happen, but no matter what, certain things just _were._ She was Amelia Jessica Pond. She was born on Earth. Rory loved her. So did the Doctor; he was her best friend. But he was also a time traveler and a powerful alien and- 

_He did not fall in love._

But evidently, he did. Could. _Had,_ and at the moment he was so oblivious to the presence of anyone, save himself and the beaming girl whose hand he was holding, that he wasn't even trying to hide it.

When her long-held knot fell apart, and so did Amy, just a little bit.

It _hurt,_ to have everything changed in one instant. To realize that she had got it wrong. She knew him so well; but somehow, she had never suspected what he'd hidden, under the guise of the dynamic, brilliant, mighty alien. Or maybe she just didn't want to know. 

That beneath it all, he was just a man.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Amy realized that the Doctor, in his weird convoluted way, had tried to warn her about this when he'd flirted with that girl on the shore of an alien lake. But while the events of that evening had definitely thrown her, it hadn't taken long for her to simply dismiss the whole incident as just another one of his acts. It had been, yet once again she'd missed the subtle hint of truth.

Well, this was no act, his every word, every action further proof of that, and when at last he enfolded the girl in his arms, like she was the only person in the universe who mattered, Amy couldn't watch anymore. She looked down at her lap, idly scratching at the bloodstains marring the filmy green skirt until she felt Rory's warm fingers settle, stroking across the back of her neck. She peered up at him; he gave her a sympathetic smile while she leaned into the comfort of his touch, closing her eyes against a barrage of unpleasant thoughts and emotions. Embarrassment, self-loathing, jealousy, grief; later in the merciful dark silence of bed she'd finally be able to sort them all out, analyze them, and examine them like wounds- but now? There was only one emotion clear enough to name with any accuracy at all.

Anger. 

It was strong and empowering and it soothed away all her hurts better than any drug.

The Doctor had planned this whole thing and he'd lied about it. He must have been lying to her for weeks now, since the day she and Rory had come back onboard the TARDIS. And now he and all his stupid secrets had dared to make her question the depth of their friendship! 

And _seriously_ , how bloody long was it going to take for him to wake up and notice that she was _right here?_

"Relax, Doctor, he's only saying hello."

Distracting her from her thoughts, the words drew Amy's hopeful attention. Rose had sounded extremely annoyed- but no, she was looking at John, not the Doctor. At least she was back in the other man's arms.

"Oh, is _that_ what that was?" Amy's jealousy had nothing on John's.

"What do you expect?" his wife told him, eyes flashing. "He was my best friend, same as you. We've missed each other, so what? You of all people should be able to understand how that feels!"

In uncomfortable silence they glared at each other until Rose spoke a few quiet words, and then the two of them retreated, alone, to their bedroom. The Doctor watched them go and when the door closed he turned around, looking rather disoriented, like he'd just come out of a deep, long sleep.

No one likes a witness to their weakness, or having a painful secret exposed; the Doctor probably more than most. In spite of everything Amy began to feel a teensy bit sorry for him, watching him recognize the presence of both Rory and Jake and then realize that they had been his audience for both. 

When his fleeing gaze finally landed on her it did so with bruising impact. The Doctor froze, his face draining of color, and at first, this only fueled her ire. So- not only had he entirely forgotten she existed, but apparently, having his old love affair revealed while _she_ was around had made it even worse for him.

The Doctor clenched his eyes shut for a moment and she knew that wasn't entirely true. He was disappointed in _himself._ Regretful over hurting her, far more than anything she might have seen.

Stupid alien, she thought, as her eyes settled on him. She could practically see the guilt welling up, he looked miserable, already it was blunting the sharp edges of her anger. Why couldn't he just let her be mad at him for once? But no, she could see it blooming on his face, that never-ending desire of his to make everything alright.

He sucked in a breath. "Good to see you, Pond."

Time passed, they stared at one another and his eyes pleaded for a reply. Amy held strong. It wouldn't hurt him to sweat over it for a minute.

"Good to see you too, Raggedy Man," she finally gave in. "Or at least, it's good to see that _something_ has finally gotten you off of that stupid ship of yours, as I certainly wasn't able to do it. Now get over here, you moron, and you better make yourself mighty comfortable. Because you have a helluva lot of explaining to do."

His guard shot up, but Amy found the familiarity of it strangely comforting. With a quick glance to the others and the still-closed bedroom door, he made his way over, settling on the sofa, wisely out of reach but near her feet. He grimaced when he got his first good look at her purplish toes, which were especially grotesque looking when combined with the dark blue toenail polish she'd applied yesterday.

"Amy, this looks terrible. What happened?"

He sounded so deeply, sincerely concerned that Amy kind of wanted to kick him. 

"Don't be nice to me; don't pretend like you _care._ You're not gonna use this as an excuse to get out of talking."

This wasn't very fair and she knew it. Looking hurt, the Doctor smoothed back the thick hair flopping over his forehead and nodded, as if he thought he probably deserved it. Amy sighed and softened her tone.

"We were rushing down a fire escape and my heel caught in the grating. I twisted my ankle a bit." She pretended nonchalance, but couldn't help wincing as Doctor gingerly slipped a hand under her calf and lifted her foot off the pillows to get a better look at it.

"Twisted it?" His worried eyes flicked from her foot to her face. "Your toes should not be this swollen. Not with a simple sprain. How do you know it's not broken?"

"I don't, not really. But Rory and John looked at it before they wrapped it."

Rose and John had just emerged from their bedroom, and had joined with Rory and Jake to watch the proceedings. The Doctor glared up at John.

" _Looked at it?_ Since when would you be content with simply _looking_ at it? You know you scan everything with that bloody sonic, so why not this? You could've known if her ankle was broken hours ago!"

"Yeah? And how do you know I even have a sonic?" John shot back, his words an echo of Amy's own thoughts. "It's not like you gave me one before you left." 

The Doctor considered him closely. "Still bet you had one within a week."

Rose snorted. "Try three days. He barely even slept till he had that thing built. Even broke into the highest security level at Torchwood in the middle of the night, just to get the parts he needed. Dad about throttled him when he found out."

"Rose! You don't need to tell him everything!" 

Her hands went to her hips and John deflated slightly. 

"I'm sorry," he said, turning back to look at the Doctor. "I didn't scan it because I... well, I didn't want your companions to figure out who I was. In my defense, I _did_ examine her ankle thoroughly, as did Rory. And we really don't think it's broken." 

The Doctor nodded and started to pick out the end of the gauze with two fingers, intent on unwrapping it. But Amy had had _more_ than enough. 

"Just hold it right there, Raggedy Man," she warned him off. "Nobody's touching me, or scanning me, or doing anything else until someone explains what is going on here!"

He froze, how very _predictable_ , and Amy rolled her eyes and looked up at the others. Rose and John were silent, watching the Doctor, obviously intending for him to do all the talking. Rory looked more sympathetic than curious- _did_ he know something she didn't?- and Jake was outright grinning, like this was the best entertainment he'd had in weeks. 

Frustrated, she looked back at the Doctor. There was resignation in his eyes. What was the big deal? 

Amy shook her head. "Come on, Doctor, out with it! Who are these people to you? Really? I was told they were prior companions of yours, but they're obviously so much more than that. Or at least _Rose_ is," she couldn't resist adding, and felt a pang of grim satisfaction when the Doctor visibly flinched. "How does John know so much? Why would he hide his identity? And _why_ would you expect him to have a sonic screwdriver, of all things? Honestly, if it weren't for the wife and the flat, I'd almost believe he was a Time Lord!"

From the corner of her eye she saw Rose and John attempting to suppress smiles, and Jake outright snickered. Rory's eyes were huge. Her eyes flashed angrily at all of them until the Doctor finally spoke.

"Amy Pond, my brilliant Amelia," he said slowly, taking her hand in his. "Of course you've already guessed it, all on your own." She heard the hint of pride in his voice, underneath his apprehension. "John _is_ a Time Lord." He stopped and she waited, certain there was more to come. "But... _John_ is not actually his name."

His face looked like an apology and it was hard for Amy to even draw a full breath. "And what is it then?" she pressed, unable to imagine why he looked so sorry.

He chuckled humorlessly. "His name is, well, it's the Doctor. He's not just a Time Lord, Amy. He's _me._ Meet my tenth incarnation."

 

********

 

There are limits to how much one person can take. Amy, already overloaded with a lifetime's worth of new and fantastical information, just couldn't absorb any more. She heard the Doctor's words but they made no sense, weren't much more than sound. John; another version of the Doctor? She was just so tired all of a sudden. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows.

She was allowed this for all of twenty seconds before her personal space was invaded. The sofa cushion sank down, scratchy wool and warm body heat pressed up against her outer thigh. Amy rubbed her eyes wearily. Oh, how she just wanted to be left alone. Preferably for a few days. It would take at least that long before she could start to sort out the massive tangle in her head.

"Amy? I'm sorry, so sorry. Are you alright, love?"

She shook her head, but then she opened her eyes bravely and looked up at John. Or- _the Doctor?_ His concerned brown eyes watched her. Ancient eyes. Time Lord eyes; as she'd noticed, but not named, when she first met him. There was her evidence, literally staring her in the face- so why couldn't she grasp it? His mouth smiled reassuringly at her but it was just as unfamiliar as the rest of him. If he was really the Doctor then something was off. Amy had assured Rose that the Doctor was happy, at least sometimes. She still believed that to be true, but she also knew that even at his best he was scarred, forever burdened. Yet this man and his almost bubbly lightness seemed to be missing most of that. Was this the Doctor, truly happy? Amy felt terrible that this fact would make him so unrecognizable.

She had often tried to convince the TARDIS to show her pictures of some of the Doctor's other forms, having always been intensely curious about (and slightly disbelieving of) his claims of regeneration. She never imagined having her curiosity satisfied in quite this way- one of them sitting right next to her, with her current Doctor at her feet. She held John in her gaze, looking him up and down, her fascination in him growing despite her exhaustion. He shifted from his place next to her on the sofa and stood, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably under her scrutiny. 

Now _that_ was definitely familiar.

She asked the obvious question. "But how can there be two of you?" 

Rory's voice broke in. "He says he split himself in two. And I, for one, would still like to know exactly how that works."

Rose held up a hand. "That's fine, but before we start with that one I would like to know just exactly what you're all doing here. Isn't that the biggest question, Doctor?"

Several other voices chorused in agreement but the Doctor's attention was elsewhere. His eyes narrowed, as though he were listening intently for something.

"Doctor?" said Rose, waving a hand before his face. "Hello?"

He answered but still sounded immensely distracted. "I'm here because I was told that you needed my help. Still a bit foggy on the details. Skinny over here hasn't been very forthcoming." His eyes glazed over again. "How long?"

"How long?" echoed Rose. "How long what?"

"Since I left. The last time."

She was quiet. "Over three years. Why does it matter?"

"Shouldn't you have one by now?"

John groaned and palmed his face. "Would you stop talking in riddles? One _what?_ You are so much worse than I've ever been!"

Everyone else grinned when beside him, Rose shook her head, eyes wide in comic disagreement. "TARDIS, love. He's asking about our TARDIS."

The Doctor's eyes shone and he smiled softly at Rose. "Yes. Rose knows, just like she always does." He looked over at John. "I gave you a clipping. So where is your TARDIS?"

"Long story," said John, his face carefully blank. "It can wait; just like all the other questions. But _she_ shouldn't have to anymore," he added, with a gesture to Amy. "Get her ankle sorted. C'mon, the rest of you, there are piles of food getting cold out in the kitchen. And I'm starving."


	25. Chapter 24

By the time they were all seated around the oval-shaped dining room table, the intense summer storm had mostly spent itself. Booming thunder and fierce rushes of wind had ceased, giving way to nothing more than a weary drizzling splatter against the windowpanes; as if the evening was still quite unhappy but had run out of reasons for shouting about it. 

Amy knew the feeling. When Jake had left a bit earlier, claiming exhaustion, Amy had wished that she could escape too. Having the Doctor care for her ankle, her foot in his lap, as he ran the sonic's warm green light back and forth over it followed by his thumb's gentle caress, had been so _nice_ that she'd only narrowly escaped breaking down. The always-in-control part of Amy had hated that. His concerned full attention had her anger fading faster than the soreness in her ankle, and without it she was powerless, drained, and far too emotional. Even her normally insatiable curiosity had long since gone, and she wanted everyone else to go away too. She dreaded the thought of another extended conversation with these people. 

But now, with her pain finally eased and some food in her belly, Amy was beginning to feel like her own woman again. No one was making any attempt at conversation and the relaxed, quiet atmosphere acted as a soothing balm to her chaotic state of mind. Seated between Rory and her Doctor, she took slow breaths and basked in the peacefulness, chewing a bite of chicken curry and avoiding all eye contact in favor of allowing her gaze to wander about the room again. It was amazing how different it seemed now, seeing it as the home of a Time Lord rather than that of an heiress. 

And now it made sense. Amy told herself that if her imagination had ever run wild enough to picture the Doctor living in a flat in London, it might look something like this. Large and open because it would make him feel the least like a caged lion. Sparsely and simply adorned, never too domestic. Yet, one important feature was quite noticeably absent from this Doctor's abode. Search as she might, Amy didn't see anything remotely, well, _extraterrestrial._

She thoroughly surprised herself by being the first to break the extended silence. "Where's all your alien stuff?" she asked John, who was sitting directly across the table. "You must have some somewhere. Even if you don't have a TARDIS, Rose said you two work with aliens. If you're really the Doctor then there's no way you spend that much time with aliens without nicking some of their stuff."

John shot her a cheeky grin. "First of all, Rose and I don't work with aliens. We work with humans. We just catch aliens." He paused. "Welllll," he clarified, smirking, "sometimes we catch them. Sometimes they get away. And sometimes we give them clearance to move into a dingy flat in the West end and teach modern dance."

Amy pinched her lips together but failed to prevent a smile. "You know that's not what I meant." 

John quirked an eyebrow and shoveled an enormous amount of Pad Thai into his mouth, then leaned so far back in his chair that the front legs came up off the floor. Amy reflexively held her breath. However, this version of the Doctor was apparently far more coordinated than the one she knew; he balanced there effortlessly while he chewed and his round brown eyes sparkled at her.

"Alright, I admit that I occasionally borrow a few items from Torchwood now and again," he admitted, once he was able to speak. "But most of the time they don't even miss it. Torchwood doesn't know the half of what they have, much less what to do with it. I hide most of that stuff away in my lab. I do have a few things here but it's too risky to leave them lying around, with all the ignorant, nosy humans we have tracking in and out."

The Doctor was listening to their exchange with interest. "Is that where you're keeping your TARDIS, then? Torchwood? Is she shielded or something? But how would you expect to bond properly with her if you can't keep the link open?"

John brought the front of his chair down to smack hard against the floor, his easy smile fading. "She's not at Torchwood. She's here."

"But I can't feel her."

John hesitated. "That's because she's still too small," he admitted in a quiet voice.

The Doctor frowned. "But you've been here for over three years. Surely she'd be- didn't you follow Donna's instructions? Shatterfry the plasmic shell-"

"Yes, yes, of course I did!" John threw an impatient hand up. "I did all that, plus everything else I could think of that might possibly help. But Donna forgot about one thing. One very important thing. That no matter how much diesel you put into a petrol engine, it's not going to run properly. Baby or not, the TARDIS is not _from_ here. The energy's not potent enough to get her growing any faster than normal. Should be fine in a couple thousand years, though."

The Doctor was silent for a long minute. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

Rory was mystified. "You _grow_ a TARDIS?"

"Yes, well, they're alive aren't they? How else would they begin?" said the Doctor shortly, dropping his chin onto his hand.

He was obviously done talking about it, so Amy seized the opportunity to change the subject to one she found far more intriguing. "Now that we're not hungry, or in pain, or imminent danger, can someone please tell me how _this_ began?" she asked, waving a finger back and forth between the Doctor and John. "I knew you were capable of a lot of weird, insane, alien things, Doctor, but I must say that this whole splitting yourself in two is certainly a new one. So what's the deal? Don't tell me that Time Lords are like worms or something."

Rose and John shared a knowing grin. "Did I ever tell you that's exactly what Donna said?" John asked, turning to the Doctor. "Right after it happened?"

The Doctor laughed out loud. "Did she? Oh, that sounds like her. I'll bet she was annoyed as all get out, suddenly confronted with another one of me."

"You don't know the half of it-"

"Hello!" yelled Amy, and everyone jumped. "Question! I asked one! Several times now, if I remember correctly." She held two fingers together, then dramatically separated them. "One Doctor, then two! _Explain!_ "

The two Doctors stared at each other. "Be my guest," said Amy's Doctor to the one sitting across from him. "Since you were there for more of it than I was."

"Not much more. And I'm pretty sure she'd rather hear it from you."

Amy agreed with a vehement nod and the Doctor sighed, fidgeting with his bow-tie. "Fine," he conceded reluctantly, poking his fork into his mostly untouched plate before dropping it with a clink, down on to the table. "I supposed it all started when I regenerated into number Ten over here," he said, waving a finger to John. "Went a bit wrong. I ended up in a healing coma, so imagine my surprise when I awoke and walked out of my TARDIS to find myself onboard a Sycorax ship. Rose, in true Rose character, was attempting peace negotiations." He grinned at her from across the table.

"The Sycorax are like these big, dodgy, bug-looking aliens," explained Rose.

"Bug-looking?" said John doubtfully, squinting at her. "Really?"

"Yes," said Rose firmly.

Amy cleared her throat. "Anyway..."

"Anyway, one of those _big bug-looking_ aliens-" continued the Doctor, smiling at Rose and ignoring the loud, annoyed huff from John- "was foolish enough to challenge me to a sword fight. He cut off my hand."

" _He_ was the foolish one?" quipped Rory.

"Oi! Shut up. I won, didn't I? Plus my hand grew back instantly. Poor chap, he didn't see that one coming."

"Neither did I," said Rose seriously.

Amy stared at him, half fascinated, half disgusted. "You can _re-grow_ body parts?"

"It was only because it was within the first fifteen hours of my regeneration. Long story short, an old friend of mine later came across my severed hand and saved it for me."

"Not quite accurate," sing-songed Rose. "You took it away from him."

"Well, it was _my_ hand, wasn't it?" retorted the Doctor, shooting her the same pleased sort of glare that a sixteen-year-old boy might give to a pretty girl.

John gave him a long, disbelieving look and shook his head.

"My turn," he said curtly. "This is taking too long." 

Amy and Rory hung on every word as John, without too much interruption, spent the better part of an hour telling the enthralling story of how he and Rose had been separated, about his next two companions, how the planets had been stolen, and how throughout most of it his old hand had remained in its jar on the TARDIS. Until one day when Rose miraculously returned to him, and started a chain of events like no other.

"You see, I was in love with her," John stated candidly, and Amy watched the Doctor's cheeks turn pink as he immersed himself in tracing patterns on the tabletop with a finger. "And I'd believed she was gone forever. So when I saw her there at the end of that street, I completely lost my head. Forgot about the Daleks, forgot about Donna, forgot about everything- except running to Rose as fast as I could." He gave a sort of one-sided shrug. "Got shot by a Dalek before I ever reached her." 

Amy gasped, from both what he'd said and the callous way he'd said it. Shot by a Dalek? 

The Doctor seemed to share Amy's sentiments, judging by the dark look on his face when he lifted his head and spoke for the first time in an hour. "My fate was sealed from that moment," he said, "although I didn't know it then. I was dying. Again," the Doctor told them quietly. "I'd already regenerated on Rose once before. It was so hard on her. Here I'd just gotten her back- I couldn't do that to her again. So when I saw my opportunity to avoid it, I took it without thinking. As I began to regenerate, I used just enough of the energy to heal myself and poured the rest into my handy spare hand, as a kind of biological receptacle. When I saw that I had avoided changing, I was ecstatic. I couldn't have cared less that I'd spent yet another regeneration, I believed I'd just cheated the universe out of another victory over me. I was getting my second chance with Rose, and an opportunity to make right everything I'd done wrong the first time around."

Rose stared at him, wondering. "You'd never done anything wrong."

The Doctor locked eyes with her, his own deep and earnest. "Yes, well, I never did anything _right,_ either," he said softly. Rose blushed and broke eye contact, looking rather off-balance.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, the Doctor continued. "But of course, in the end all I'd accomplished was ensuring that none of it would ever happen. Donna was trapped on the TARDIS, which was about to be incinerated by the Daleks, when who knows what made her touch the jar with my hand inside it. It was still bursting with regeneration energy, and that one touch was all it took. Instantaneous biological meta-crisis. That hand became Doctor 2.0, if you will," he added, gesturing to John, who lifted said hand and wiggled his fingers. "He was me in every way, right down to the same Time Lord consciousness."

"But with a little dash of human," added John. "Of Donna. I've only got one heart. Human lifespan. No regenerating."

Rory began to question him on that but Amy tuned them out, her mind rapidly filling in the blanks. So this was why the Doctor had left Rose behind with this other version of himself. He loved her enough to give her up, to give her the normal human life he thought would be better for her than the one he could offer. Even though he must have known that Rose had intended to spend the rest of her life with him, on the TARDIS. 

Well, regardless of what Rose had planned to do, she certainly seemed happy now, living on Earth, married to a part-human version of the man she loved. So the better question might be- had the full Time Lord ever regretted giving her up? 

Amy thought back to the brief but terrible period of her life when she'd made the decision to give up Rory. It had ripped her apart, broken her heart, never for one second had she not regretted it. Even when she was so certain she was right in her actions. 

Empathy swept over her, forcing out much of her own hurt. She glanced around the table. Rory and John were still engaged in intense conversation, Rose was smiling fondly at them, and the Doctor was watching Rose, his face a curious mix of emotions. Her heart suddenly ached for him. How must he be feeling, sitting here, right now? Amy may not understand all of the whys and hows yet, but for some reason, he still loved this woman. Probably always would. This situation had to be terribly painful for him. For as much as he and John had shared the same story, in the end, the Doctor was not the one who had got the girl.

Amy was brought out of her thoughts by a loud yawn from Rose. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you," she said, "but I'm about done in. We can talk more tomorrow, yeah?" 

Rory instantly agreed, stretching his long arms. "Sounds good to me." He stood, offering a hand to Amy, and she accepted his help, mindful of her still tender ankle. She wasn't at all sorry to call it a night. She still had a million questions, but her head was full to bursting as it was. Sleep would help her sort it out.

 

********

After a brief but saddening visit to the small branch of TARDIS coral, tucked away snugly in her tank in his counterpart's office, the Doctor stood alone at a window in the great room, staring out at the city lights. He missed his own TARDIS, and although he'd been forbidden to leave this place he briefly considered taking off anyway. Spending the night alone in this room, with nothing to prevent some majorly disquieting thoughts, was not a pleasant prospect. But it was more than that. Time was just so _wonky_ here, niggling in his head like a constant itch. Wondering how the Other possibly stood it, the Doctor rubbed his temples and turned his gaze toward the heavens, past the shadowy blobs that were zeppelins and their winking red and yellow lights. The clouds had cleared away some time ago and the stars had reappeared, and although heavy light pollution prevented him seeing their full number, they still seemed close. It could have been worse.

The Doctor in blue, the only other person still awake, appeared in his peripheral. Without turning his head, the Doctor watched his actions as he loosened and yanked off his tie, tossing it carelessly to the floor before he flung himself down in the nearest armchair with a loud sigh. 

"So you're officially going by John Smith now, eh?" the Doctor asked him, still staring out the window.

"No. Yes. Well, legally. Didn't have much choice, since Pete insisted 'Doctor' wouldn't do for a driver's license and ID's and such. Never saw the like, a planet needing so much proof of a person's identity. Anyway, no one calls me John. At least not friends. Not that I've many of those."

"Does Rose go by Rose Smith, then?" The Doctor tried to sound casual, but the question had been nagging at him for hours.

Number Ten bolted upright in his chair and the Doctor snapped his gaze from the window to look at the outraged figure. "Are you joking?" he asked, voice pitched high, nose all scrunched up as if he'd just tasted a pear. "Why would she do that? Rose _Smith_? You know as well as I do that she is now, and forever will be, Rose Tyler. Brilliant name. Rolls off the tongue."

The smiles they shared were genuine, and the Doctor went back to his star-gazing with a feeling of profound relief. Not a speck of dust was impeding his view, he noticed suddenly, despite the heaviness of the rain earlier. Interesting. "Does this world have some sort of dirt-repellent glass or something?" he asked, pressing a fingertip against the glass, lifting it and marveling when it didn't leave a mark. "Brilliant."

"Nah," said the Other, slumping back in his chair and stretching his long legs out in front of him. "That's my doing. Had another run in with the Krillitanes, couple of years ago. I sent 'em packing, but this time I managed to have some of their oil sent back to my lab. Fascinating stuff. Not only does it make you smarter but it's the best bloody dirt repellent I've ever seen, anywhere." 

"Better than the stuff we picked up on Xos? You know, that we use to keep dust off the console?"

"Yep," he replied, popping the p. "I wanted to coat all the furniture and surfaces with it, 'cos who wants to waste time cleaning, but Rose wouldn't have it. She was worked up enough about the windows." He looked thoughtful. "Although, that may have been because she was just a wee bit worried about my safety; climbing around out there. I'm fairly certain that she yelled at me." He shrugged. "Plus, she doesn't like the smell."

The Doctor pressed his nose against the glass and sniffed. The scent was odd, almost like chips, but a bit off. He decided he agreed with her.

"Anyway," said the Doctor in blue, "fun as this is, we both know you didn't come here to talk about cleaning supplies. So you're here to help us, eh? Thing is, as far as I know the Pete's World BBC nightly news doesn't broadcast to Prime. So-" his counterpart leaned forward and stared at him, eyebrows raised, elbows on knees. "I'm all ears. How could you _possibly_ know we need help?"

The Doctor looked down, twisting a button on his jacket. Now that it was time to actually explain it, he suddenly realized how crazy he was going to sound. "If you want to know the truth, I kept having this- this dream."

Other Him tilted his head scornfully. "A _dream_? C'mon, really?" he said. "Is that all the better you can come up with? I've had some humdinger dreams in my time, but the most they've ever motivated me to do is to avoid going to bed for awhile. So you'll probably understand when I tell you that it's hard for me to imagine just how special this dream of yours must've been. After all, it made you risk your own life," he bounced to his feet and began to pace restlessly, ticking off his fingers, "not that you've ever valued it much, the TARDIS, your companion's lives, and last, but certainly not least, the entire bleeding multi-verse. Because of a dream? I can't wait to hear about it, actually." 

He stopped pacing and looked the Doctor dead in the eye. "Or.... maybe you meant dream as more of a goal, rather than a vision whilst sleeping? As in- you're here to achieve your dream of getting Rose back?"

"I've already told you _several times_ that's not-"

"Or wait! I've got it! It was a literal dream, but wasn't that we, as in Rose and I, needed your help. It was just Rose, right? And I was dead." 

_("Oh, you think you're going to die, don't you?)_ There it was again, the same look that had prompted the Doctor to say those words to him earlier, surfacing in a set of eyes that were suddenly red-rimmed. A peculiar mix of hopelessness, desperation, and not a little bit of danger that was, for the Doctor, so eerily reminiscent of a time in his own life that he'd rather forget entirely. _"Your song is ending."_ Though fleeting on his double, he'd once worn that look constantly; a symptom of how the dread of the prophecy's fulfillment had embedded in his hearts like an infection. But it seemed totally unwarranted in this context. Perhaps the man had just inherited a bit of Donna's flair for the dramatic.

"No," the Doctor stated slowly, "you weren't dead. Just injured. And Rose was very, very angry with you over it. Apparently you'd broken a promise you made her."

The human Doctor couldn't mask his shock. "What promise?" 

" _'Forever'_ , was it? Oh, and that you were supposed to have 'let Torchwood take care of it.' Just what _it_ is, well, so far you've refused to tell me, but fortunately, I'm very, very good at deducting. Let's see. For starters, you have an enormous telepathic disruptive field surrounding this building. That means whoever's been threatening you is alien, which is nothing new, and also telepathic, which is somewhat rarer. You've admitted the disruptor is the only thing preventing them from killing you, so keeping them from killing you means keeping them _out._ They must be clever, or else you'd have sorted this by now, far more dangerous than the usual, and quite ruthless. 

"That's one word for it." 

"Are they cleverer than you?"

His counterpart gaped at him. "What kind of a stupid question is that?" he asked, with deep offense. "My mind isn't part human!"

"Because the thing I can't figure out is _why_ you haven't sorted this. Also why you've been so reluctant to discuss it."

The Other set his jaw in such a way that made the Doctor wonder if he would ever get his questions answered. "I didn't want to explain it in front of your companions." 

"Why not?"

"Because...it's not pleasant. And they wouldn't understand."

_Now,_ thought the Doctor, _we're getting somewhere._ "Well, here's your chance. Just the two of us."

Pinstripes resumed pacing, carding a hand through his hair. "So... what was wrong with me? In your dream?"

"Seriously?" He seemed to be changing the subject _again_ , and the Doctor was getting tired of this game. He moved away from his place by the window to stand directly in front of the agitated man, forcing him to stop moving. "Terrible headache," he told him impatiently. "Sore, almost like I'd been fighting."

"That's it?" 

"Yes! No! I don't know! Why does it matter?" The Doctor thought back and suddenly recalled his vision's most noteworthy feature. Aside from Rose in his lap, anyway. "I couldn't see. My eyes were bandaged." 

The Other looked at him meaningfully and touched a finger to the side of his nose.

Brow furrowed, the Doctor stared back, until a wave of shock and realization pushed his eyebrows to his hairline. "No. You can't mean... _telepathic assault?_ " he asked, in a whisper.

Younger him squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. "Yeah. They attempted to capture me first, so many times, but they couldn't. So they... they tried what works, I guess."

"But... that's just-" _A horror. A violation. Highly illegal and punishable by death in every single galactic system, bar none._

"-so wrong."


	26. Chapter 25

_"But that's just.... so wrong."_

********

 

And it was, very wrong indeed. So much so that words of consolation sprang to the Doctor's lips automatically. Yet he bit them back. Partly because he knew his other self wouldn't want that (not from him, anyway), but they were also stayed by his own sudden, deep feeling of frustration at finding that he was here for nothing more than a personal problem. 

No, that wasn't quite it. He was frustrated because it wasn't _Rose's_ personal problem, not really. Then again, why he was at all surprised? _Of course_ it would fall to him to have to swoop in and rescue the one person who stood between him and the woman he loved.

Bitterness threatened to spill out but the Doctor didn't give word to that either, remembering that none of this was the other man's fault. "What'd you do?" he asked, opting for the safe road of practicalities. "Wipe out their entire race or something?" 

"Might've done; who knows?" said the Other with a mystified shrug, tapping the rubber toe of a shoe against the floor. "If so, I don't remember it. I've just chalked it up to yet another inexplicable event in a long series of them."

Since he was trying to be nice, the Doctor let this pass without so much as an eye roll, but he had never enjoyed being on the receiving end of his own cryptic comments. "Any idea of the species? There aren't many that would be powerful enough to try and pull a stunt like that over on a Time Lord."

"No clue. They look human male, but they sort of stand out- disproportionately long legs, long arms, quite a bit taller than the average. Crew at Torchwood is calling them Ganglies."

"That's a rubbish name; it doesn't sound alien at all."

"Well, don't blame me, I didn't invent it! Who was I to argue, when I didn't have anything better to offer? The first time I laid eyes on the creatures was the night that the lot of them strolled right into this flat. Rose was already asleep and I was in my office, tending to the TARDIS. When I heard the door open I came out here to find this group of great, skinny, tall blokes who were obviously angry with me, and threatening me with extremely rudimentary weaponry. I couldn't understand a word but I disabled their guns easy enough, quick flick of the sonic." 

He demonstrated, aiming an imaginary version of the tool. "It was still six against one so they grabbed me easily and would've hauled me off, so I'm not ashamed to admit that I yelled for Rose. Since _her_ gun was far more impressive than theirs, they took one look and ran. But they're clever fellows, and by the time I saw them again they had upped their game. They wanted me in custody, I was fully uncooperative, and so they decided to just- well, pop in and literally change my mind about that. If you get my drift."

He did, and couldn't help flinching. Over the years the Doctor had experienced many things that went beyond unpleasant, but there was just something about having one's mind forcefully taken over that sent a shudder of revulsion straight through him. What sorts of charges could they be leveling, to justify resorting to such cruelty so quickly?

"They must be desperate. Why didn't you go offensive before things got so bad?"

"Well, Rose did report the first incident to Torchwood, but honestly, I wasn't worried about them at all. I mistook them as a group of slow, fairly thick aliens. They're so heavily shielded that I had no idea they were telepaths, not until Rose and I were walking back to work after lunch one afternoon and all of a sudden one of them was in my head. At that point I made the fantastic decision to abandon her in favor of going off with my new friends, and it was five blocks later before Rose was able to grab my hand and get through to me."

"How was she able to get through to you at all? She's human," but before he'd even finished the question his insides twisted with agonizing realization. Why he was just realizing it now, or why it hurt him so badly, he wasn't sure. After all, the state of their relationship, while unwelcome, had been far from surprising. He'd practically planned it himself. 

The human Doctor looked away uncomfortably. "You did notice we were married...? 

"Yes, right, sorry. It's just that, well, you know how it is. You spend so much time around mind-blind races that you stop looking for the bonds." 

The Doctor swallowed, his throat tight. He wandered a few steps over to one of the bookcases, pretending to inspect its contents in the dim lighting while that bit of information sank in like a sliver of glass. So the man really was destiny's favorite child. Made mortal enough to break down all those long-hindering barriers, but also, apparently, still Time Lord enough to forge with Rose what no true human could- the ultimate connection. And now the Doctor's jealousy knew no bounds.

Not that he blamed his counterpart in the slightest. Touching her mind was a line he himself had crossed, just once; the intimate act having become a very necessary one in order to end her stint as a goddess and save her life. Not that Rose would ever remember it. But he did, oh, did he ever, because during those few blissful, stolen, _terrifying_ moments, he had very nearly made the union a permanent one- a temptation that only his own impending death had saved him from.

He could almost feel his double's discomfort, heavy like a weight against his back. The Doctor coughed, shoved the leather-bound book he'd been fiddling with back into place on the shelf, and then forced himself to turn around and offer a encouraging smile. This wasn't about him and what he'd lost. Rose was alive and well; more than well, she was happy, and if the universe had brought him here just so she could watch him indulge in a pity-party for one then she was darn well going to be disappointed.

After eyeing him for a beat the other Doctor continued, his words slow and careful. "Anyway, with Rose being human they must not see her as a threat, or they'd never have let her near me. They still haven't figured it out, thankfully, that she can help me overcome the manipulation. They probably just believe I'm a stronger telepath than I actually am."

"Yet they still got to you. You were in hospital, in my dream," the Doctor reminded him. "So how did it happen?"

His counterpart sighed and made his way back over to one of the plush, wide armchairs, running his fingertips across the top of the fireplace mantle as he went by. Dropping heavily into the chair on the left, he gestured toward the one opposite for the Doctor to sit as well. "Well, I know you'll understand how much our lives changed after the first telepathic encounter," he said, after they were situated. "I built the disruptor that very day so there'd be no risk of them getting into our flat again. But still, I couldn't go anywhere without getting one of them in my head."

"Did they ever try coming for you at Torchwood?"

Laughing quietly, the human Doctor tipped his head forward and rubbed the crease between his brows. "Torchwood, for all its lofty claims of alien expertise, has a highly irrational fear of telepaths. They had already developed their own telepathic disruptor long before I ever got here. But even if the hub was open to the public they're probably too clever to try coming after me there, anyway."

"Well, how did they get you, then?"

"It was like you said," he admitted, after a long pause. "I broke my promise to Rose. But I had to. We couldn't live like that anymore. I needed it to stop."

 

******

 

_Modifying one of the old Cyber-era earbuds had been easy. Child's play. For once, all the parts he'd needed were available, in fact many were already stashed away in his lab; he'd had it ready to go in less than an hour._

_As he slid it into his ear he looked up at the clock hung on the wall next to the door, taking it as a good omen when it exactly agreed with his time-sense for once. 11:56 a.m. Perfect. He'd have this little errand over and done with before Rose even finished her lunch._

_Rose. Oh yes, she was going to be angry. Even though this was far from the stupidest thing he'd done since their marriage, it would be the first time he'd deliberately deceived her. The Doctor ran a hand down his face, again wavering on his decision to run off and do this without her knowledge. He was going to do it either way, but he knew she'd be a thousand times angrier if he told her beforehand and she expressly forbade it. Or worse yet, insisted on accompanying him. Those telepaths were so strong, had so easily overcome even his powerful mental shields; what might happen to Rose if they suddenly decided to use their tricks on her? Not only was she human but now mildly telepathic, all thanks to him and his burning need to have her in his head at all times. The sort of invasion that simply made him lose control of his actions might be enough to kill her._

_He'd never risk it._

_Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, he decided, and then smiled a little at the well-known saying. How many human husbands had uttered those words over the centuries, before engaging in activities they knew their wives would fully disapprove of? It was further proof of just how domestic he'd become, but right now the old adage soothed his guilty conscience. This had to be done. And Rose would forgive him. She always did._

_Twenty minutes later found him purposefully alone in a remote, secluded area found in the gardens near the river. This would need to be done without witnesses, if at all possible. The Doctor's plan was to attempt to speak with the Ganglies, and the last thing he needed was for 'John Smith' to be noticed in the midst of what could come across as a distinctly alien encounter. Jackie might mar his face beyond all recognition if he ended up responsible for yet another PR nightmare._

_Feeling misgivings that he told himself were totally illogical; he quickly reached up to his ear and switched off his brand-new portable telepathic disruptor. Now, without its protective shielding, it shouldn't take them very long to find him. The park wasn't far from Torchwood's Canary Wharf location, and he knew the aliens had long-before centered themselves near his work and home. His hand hovered near his ear; ready to switch the device back on the instant he felt that telltale nudge against his mind. The ear-bud was only a small protection, hardly adequate, but good enough to buy him enough time to gain a bit of much needed understanding. Centuries of experience told him that communication had to be the key. If he could only find out why they hated him then he could fix this, resolve things peacefully, and then he and Rose could finally have their lives back._

_It was less than ten minutes later when five of them came out of the trees like an approaching mob. Surprised that they'd actually shown themselves, his thumbnail flipped the little black switch and the protective, reassuring hum filled his mind- just as he felt cold fingers on his neck; before he ever thought to wonder where their sixth member might be. The feeble protection offered by the disruptor was like a wispy spider web against a locomotive as the unseen creature roared into his mind, the added power of skin against skin enabling him to rip through fortified barriers and centuries-old walls like they were cardboard and paper. In agony, the Doctor screamed as he dropped, stone-like, to the ground._

 

********

"He let go of me, right before I lost consciousness," he concluded, elbows on knees, staring at the scrapes and smudges on the toes of his trainers. "It's the only reason I survived."

"Why do you think he let go?"

There was reluctance in his double's eyes as they flicked up to meet his for a moment, then went back to the floor. His leg bounced as one heel tapped against the floor restlessly and he began to pick at the blue fabric of his trousers.

"Someone... saved me." He grimaced as soon as he said it, like he hadn't actually meant to share, and then continued tugging at the fabric where it ran tight over the curve of his knee, creasing it into ridges between his fingers.

The Doctor took a few second to think this over. "Okay," he drew the word out, studying his fidgeting younger self, "someone stepped in and saved you. So what? Why are you acting like the next thing you did was sell your soul as penance?"

Tenny jerked his head up and his haunted expression sent a jolt through the Doctor, making him half wonder if his glib words were correct, somehow.

Fingertips dug into thighs, he went entirely still before throwing the closed bedroom door a long, wary look. Then his serious brown eyes turned to the Doctor and he spoke in a voice that was hushed with secret. "Because...because Rose doesn't know a thing about that part of it." Eyes intense, he raised a hand and pointed a finger, a warning, directly at the Doctor's nose. "And don't you _dare_ tell her."

There was a firmness in the set of his lips that said any attempt to probe for more on the subject would be futile. Which, of course, only fueled the Doctor's curiosity. He wrung his hands together, his palms practically itching with it. "You know you're not making any sense at all," he told him, wondering if perhaps the attack had addled his counterpart's brain much more than he realized.

"Yeah." He coughed out a hollow laugh. "Was hoping you wouldn't notice." 

"Is there something-"

The taller man held a hand up, interrupting his question. "Pete had to tell her that I was in hospital," he told him quietly. " _He_ found out when the police called. Although the media never discovered the alien aspect, the attack was still in all the papers afterward, plus the hospital had gone and done a few scans of my head without permission. So on top of everything else, Rose and her family had to deal with paparazzi cameras flashing everywhere, plus they were forced to employ a few rather underhanded maneuvers to make those test results disappear. It was horrible. Rose was so angry, so hurt, that I honestly thought she was going to leave me. But you know Rose. Lovely, wonderful, forgiving Rose-" 

Shaking his head, he broke off eye contact and expelled a long breath before restlessly abandoning his seat, -"all she did was make me swear, all over again, that I would never leave her alone here. I couldn't lose her. So I made the promise." His back was to the Doctor as he stood at one of the dark windows, hands jammed deep in his pockets, and the hazy golden light shining in illuminated the edges of his thin silhouette. "Even though I knew I had no real way of keeping it." His voice trailed off until his next words were scarcely audible. "Well. Not until you showed up."

"See, now you're getting it," said the Doctor, not at all liking the fact that his own words felt as if they might be ironic, that he might the one who hadn't _got it_ at all. "Two Doctors on the case? They don't stand a chance. Holmes and Watson; that's who we are." 

Looking back at him over his shoulder, the human Doctor pasted on a small smile, his face an unreadable mask of calm. "Well then, my dear Watson. I guess we'd best get to it."

 

********

 

The last chord was a broken one and the Doctor rolled it out on the piano with experienced, if somewhat rusty, fingers. "Quite good; I like it," he told the man in the suit, who had just walked over from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his trousers. "One of the best of the lot, I think."

"Well, thanks, but you know, you've only played three of the more than two dozen pieces I've written. In my book, that hardly entitles you to an opinion."

"Two dozen? Really? I never knew I had a master composer lurking inside that skinny body. Or is it a product of the meta-crisis?"

"More like a product of extreme boredom. Been rather cooped up, remember? I've been told recently that my behavior had become a bit, ahem, unbearable, so certain people insisted that I find a new hobby." 

The Doctor chuckled. "And by 'certain people' you mean Rose?"

"Nah. Well, yes, later, but only because she got fed up with my first hobby."

"Which was?"

The human Doctor raised one eyebrow and gave him the sauciest of smirks. "Let's just say Rose thought it was too time-consuming. For _her._ " 

Now that was just plain childish. The Doctor shot him a withering glare. "Since you're so eager to talk about Rose again," he asked, discarding his plan to _ease_ back into this conversation, "why don't you explain to me why you're hiding the fact that someone saved your life from her? Interesting, that. Especially since you, quite haughtily, told me earlier that 'hiding things' was something you _never_ did anymore."

Every bit of teasing had disappeared from the other Doctor's face in an instant. "It's nothing, alright? Will you please let it go? Rose hates talking about that day; adding to the story now would only upset her. She wouldn't want to hear about it anyway."

"I'm pretty sure it wouldn't upset _me._ "

"Oh, I'm sure it wouldn't," he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," the human Doctor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look. Right now this has nothing to do with solving my problem. If I, at some point, decide that you _need_ to know, for whatever reason, then I will tell you. Not a moment before. So you may as well stop asking."

Like that was gonna happen.

It was two thirty-seven a.m. The two Time Lords had just spent the better part of an hour inventing, discarding, and bickering over theories about the possible identity of the intimidating aliens. After coming up empty-handed, they'd at last agreed on one thing- that _why_ the Ganglies were acting out in such a way was probably more important than _who_ they were, then agreed on a second thing- that it was a puzzle they could much better solve with the resources of the TARDIS.

There all agreement had ended and they'd spent the last thirty minutes ignoring one another. The Doctor who lived there had busied himself with clearing the dining room table and loading the dishwasher, while his tweed-coated counterpart, after turning his nose up at the idea of helping, snooped through the piles of hand-written sheet music stacked on the piano stand, and had eventually provided musical accompaniment to the clean-up efforts. 

The Doctor closed the piano cover with a resounding bang. "Well, since you don't want to talk and you've refused to go back to the TARDIS tonight so we can accomplish something that's actually important, what do you suggest we do next? A few more domestics, perhaps? You scrub the floors and I'll do the hoovering?" he said loftily, conveniently forgetting the fact that he himself had done this very thing, voluntarily, at Amy and Rory's not so long ago. 

"I'll have you know that my wife will be very happy with me for cleaning up this mess. Very, very, happy. Whereas all you've done tonight is try to interrupt her rest with all your banging around. You know how Rose hates being woken up."

Did he ever. The Doctor's eyes went wide at the thought of it and Pinstripes grinned triumphantly. "But what you don't know is that Rose only sleeps really well when I'm _with her._ So in the interest of further Rose-happiness, I'm going to bed. You can do what you want. Quietly."

"So it's not because you're tired, then?" said the Doctor, upper lip twitching. "Cos you don't half look like you're about to fall over."

He wasn't trying to push his buttons, not really. Maybe a little. But did this insufferable human/Time Lord hybrid need to sound so smug about, well, everything?

But the button was a big, red, blinking one, and the Doctor knew it'd been thoroughly pushed when the spiky-haired man crossed his arms, jaw set tight. "So what if I am?" he spat. "You know, even if I never got tired, a long, endless night is a lot less lonely spent curled up with Rose than it is doing unnecessary repairs on a silent spaceship."

Cheeks heating, the Doctor glared at him, trying to tamp down his temper. "You want me to say it? Yes, I'm _jealous_ , alright? You know that, you're _me_ , for Rassilon's sake! Do you think I'm enjoying this, coming here, watching you wear the face she liked best, and witnessing the fact that you have everything I ever wanted? I'm here for _Rose_ , not you, because even though I haven't seen her for decades, for some reason I still apparently risk everything to come running if I think she needs help!"

"I'm sorry," said his double, after a long silence, looking somewhat embarrassed. "You... you did what you thought was best. Did it out of love; leaving her here with me. Rose knows that. Even at the beginning, though I'll admit she was angry with you at first." 

The Doctor quietly absorbed this. "I was always afraid that I'd made her hate me. I left her behind again. So to find out tonight that she didn't was just- amazing. All I could hope for, really." 

Other Him nodded. "Well, good. That's good." He inclined his head toward the bedroom door. "Suppose I'll just-"

Smiling, the Doctor shook his head. "Goodnight."

The Doctor in blue saluted him, a quick finger off the forehead, and crossed over to the bedroom. Once there, he turned around again with his hand on the knob. "Oh, and thanks. For coming, for being willing to be there for her when you thought there was a chance I might not be." 

His expression shifted wickedly and the corner of his mouth curled upward. "Even if you _hoped_ there was a chance I might not be."

The Doctor didn't even hesitate. "Quite right."

His counterpart's smirk grew into a full-fledged grin. "Hey, how'd you do it, by the way? How'd you get through?"

"Oh. The TARDIS helped a bit, actually. Remember the gun Rose was carrying, the night she found us again? She left it behind. But since it originated here, I just-"

The other man's eyes widened in fascination. "Homed in on planet of origin? Oh... the Psycho-Telemeter, right? That's brilliant! I wonder-" all brightness faded as a look of horror crossed his face and his eyes stared. The Doctor knew what he was doing. Sifting through memories. Or more specifically, trying to mentally sift through what may or may not have been in his pockets after his and Rose's first visit to this universe.

"It's okay," the Doctor reassured him, sympathetic since he'd had the same moment of panic. "It wouldn't have worked before. Didn't bring back so much as an earbud." 

"Yeah," he breathed, heavy with relief. "That's good."

And it was, sort of. Better than suddenly finding out he could have had it all; Rose, both hearts, time and space, everything, if not for some stupid, heartbreaking error. He nodded at the Doctor and slipped off to bed, closing the door quietly behind him.

Smoothing back the hair flopping over his eye, the Doctor walked over to the sofa, sat on it, and gave the space next to him three quick, loud smacks with the open palm of his hand.

"Might as well come over here and join me, Pond. I know you're there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens! Thanks to all who have stuck with this story, especially since updates have been longer in coming. I should be able to get a chapter up at least every two weeks though, and there's only a few left to go! Stay tuned!


	27. Chapter 26

For once, the spying had been entirely accidental. The hour was so late that Amy had assumed that the Doctor would be alone by now, but she should've known better, that the other version of him probably wouldn't sleep much either. Or that John's need for answers might be even stronger than her own. 

Well, if the Doctor didn't like it he could only blame himself. For a genius, he at times had the stupidest notions (2 a.m. piano concertos was a new one), and he should count himself lucky that she wasn't yelling at him for waking her up. Truth was, she was rather grateful for it. By the time Amy had crawled into the Tyler-Smith guest bed, she'd been so tired she could have slept on a granite slab, so the plushness of a good mattress had led to a sleep that was both instantaneous and deep. However, the vivid dream she'd sunk into shortly thereafter was less than pleasant. Rose had been in it, and so had the Doctor- oh yes, about fifteen different versions of him, not that she'd bothered to count. She had been far too busy playing mediator, breaking up rows and arguments left and right while the lot of them fought and bickered and blatantly vied for the only thing they seemed to feel made life worth living- the blonde's undivided attention. Being awoken had saved Amy from what had become a near riot, after one of them (who was wearing, of all unbelievable things, a leather jacket) had just about managed to steal Rose out the door. 

Though she hadn't slept long, Amy was happy to find (once the urge to slap each and every one of him had faded from her palm) that she actually felt quite bit better. Curled up with Rory snug against her back, Amy had lain quietly in the darkness, indulging in a long period of reflection. She discovered she wasn't angry anymore. The Doctor may have been wrong to lie to her for so many weeks, but hearing the whole story of what had happened with Rose, and seeing how hung up on her he still was, had made his actions entirely understandable. And since she was thinking clearly, she had to admit that the hurt she still felt had more to do with her own jealousy than with his lying. Had he kept secrets from Rose, too, when she'd traveled with him? Hid parts of himself? Somehow she doubted it. What was it about that girl, that common girl with her common Cockney accent, that had entranced the Time Lord so thoroughly?

That was the thought that got Amy out of bed, counting on a chance to talk to him alone. Disappointingly, when she exited the guest room, she had come upon both Time Lords, standing on the other side of the flat, near the piano, and in the middle of what was, in spite of hushed tones, a fairly obvious shouting match. Certainly if she'd known she was going to overhear the Doctor's outright declaration of jealousy she'd have opted to stay in bed. But it was too late for that, so she slid down, unseen, to sit on the floor, concealed from their view by the tall blue back of the sofa. As she waited, leaning against the doorframe, arms wrapped around bare legs that were chilly in her short borrowed pajamas, she could hear their voices clearly.

She was glad when they resolved things quickly, and although a few of their comments were enlightening there was nothing else said that she found painful. John ended up standing at the other bedroom door for half of it but never even noticed her, and once he'd gone inside Amy still didn't reveal herself, watching the Doctor make his way over to the sofa.

There were three slow slaps, his hand hitting the cushion. "Might as well come over here and join me, Pond," he said. "I know you're there."

For some reason this warmed her all over, that he'd caught on to her spying-that-wasn't-really-spying, and Amy smiled as she carefully picked herself up from the floor, limped over to the sofa and plopped down next to him.

She took him in for a second. Bow-tie, rumpled shirt and unbuttoned jacket, that thick hair of his which now appeared to have played host to his fingers, the knowing, Doctor-ish smirk. Though Amy had arranged her expression into a serious one, she let her eyes shine at him. "So," she said, with a languid stretch of her pale, bare legs before propping both feet up on the coffee table, "that's you, is it?" Amy jerked her head back toward the door where John had disappeared a few moments before. "You used to be kinda foxy."

The Doctor's jaw dropped and the warmth in his eyes was swallowed up by pure indignation. "What? Oi! _Used to be_? I'm just as, as _foxy_ as he is and a whole lot cooler!"

Amy inclined her head to the side and pretended to look him over. "I'll give you foxy. But cooler? Doctor, surely you remember what I've told you and told you about that bow-tie." She gave him a cheeky smirk. "Get rid."

A slow grin crept onto his own face and he stroked the questionable fashion accessory, then carefully adjusted it with both hands. "No way. Bow-ties are cool."

"Yeah?" she said absently, thoughts changing direction. "So... Rose is a big fan of bow-ties, is she?"

The Doctor's smile faltered slightly. "She didn't say anything about it, actually," he admitted. "But I think the new face and all was probably enough change for one night." 

Amy stared out at her feet. Her ankle was almost normal-sized, the bruising having faded into dull blues and pinks. She tested it, rotating her foot slowly. "So the whole bow-tie thing isn't because she said she liked them, once?"

"Where on Earth would you get that idea?" he asked, sounding sincerely confused. "Of course not. I've had a lot of different fashion accessories over the years; I don't know why a certain version of me likes a certain way of dressing. He just does." He touched a finger to his chin, staring off into space. "Although, it is true that the last me, fashion sense and all, _was_ influenced by Rose. I wanted her to notice me. Always liked the pretty boys, she did," he trailed off with a small smile, lost to his memories of a happier time. A time she could never belong to.

Amy briefly wondered if he even remembered that she was there. "Has... has anything about this version of you been influenced by me?" she asked, her voice small, with just the teensiest break in it. But it was enough to drag him back to the present and he rapidly turned to her.

Those deep-set eyes of his, when she was brave enough to look over and meet them, were warm, full of love and understanding. "Oh, Pond," he said, smiling at her and leaning over to nudge her shoulder with his own. "Of course you have. Nearly everything I do these days is influenced by you in some way; even when you aren't with me. I think about you all the time, hear your voice in my head. It's prevented me making bad decisions, that voice. And it's helped me to be strong enough to make the good ones."

Amy slid closer and squeezed the back of his upper arm with her hand. "So... what category does coming here fall under?"

The Doctor was quiet for a long time. "I don't know," he said eventually. "Coming here wasn't a choice; not really. Remember when I wasn't sleeping? The nightmares?"

"Of course."

"Well, you were right. The TARDIS was behind them. It was her way of telling me that Rose- well, Rose and other me- were in trouble and needed my help. She was quite insistent. But I'll say this much. I was terrified of coming alone. Who knows what I'd have done if you hadn't insisted on staying aboard?"

"Something idiotic, definitely," she deadpanned, and he chuckled. "So that's why we're here, then? To help stop the men who were chasing John at the club tonight?"

"They were chasing him tonight?" repeated the Doctor, aghast. "Is that why you were running and got hurt? He didn't tell me that!"

"Doctor, it was an accident. Could've just as easily happened running with you, you know."

His chin jutted out and he shrugged petulantly. "He's too reckless. I was always too reckless, back then."

"Do you feel like that's why you lost Rose?"

His eyes snapped to hers and Amy moved back a bit, thrown by their blazing intensity. "Of course it's why. Every bloody thing I did when with her was too reckless. I don't trust him to not get her killed even yet."

"You don't really have a choice but to trust him though, do you?" 

"Don't I?" he echoed, inspecting his fingertips.

The stubborn rebelliousness in his tone scared her a little, reminding her of just how unpredictable he could be. Yet there was also rawness in it, like a wound gone ignored and untreated. And it suddenly occurred to Amy that that was exactly the problem. He'd never dealt with his grief, but simply covered it over and left it alone, to stew and fester. 

He'd never dealt with it and he never would. Not on his own. But her confidence in her own ability to get him to open up had been deeply shaken a few hours ago.

Steeling her resolve, Amy took a deep breath, and quietly, carefully, asked him about it.

"How long have you been in love with her?"

He stiffened and immediately clammed up, refusing to meet her eyes. But at least he was still sitting there; he hadn't catapulted over the back of the sofa and fled the room, which she had considered as a distinct possibility.

It shocked her when he actually spoke, though it was meant to be dismissive. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does. It's... it's beautiful, really." And suddenly, it was. "You've been parted from her for so many years, yet it seems as if your feelings haven't changed a bit."

"Beautiful?" He laughed, entirely without humor. "Or just incredibly stupid?"

She made a face. "Doctor-"

"Amy, imagine you've fallen in love with a fictional character; someone from one of those books you're always on about. Your feelings for that person, your longing, may be genuine, but deep down, you always know the truth- it's just not possible, and you'd be much better off if you could only get over it."

"Doctor, that comparison makes no sense," Amy huffed. "Rose wasn't fictional, she was a real, living, flesh and blood person. And what's more, she loved you back."

He looked down at his lap, fingers drumming restlessly against his knees. "That only made things harder, not any less impossible. I'm a Time Lord, Amy," he said, his voice tired and heavy. "I am one of the most powerful beings in the universe. And I am like fire. I serve a useful purpose; under the right circumstances I can be quite pleasant to be around, as long as you never, ever, get too close. That's why I had no right to let myself develop those- _feelings_ \- in the first place. But Rose.... she was just so human, so young; with the purest heart I've ever seen. She once made even a Dalek care, Amy; so what chance did I stand? By the time it hit me that I might be in trouble it was already all over."

He paused, swallowing, and pretended to look out the windows. Although he was technically still sitting there he was in constant motion, all tapping fingertips, jiggling knees, and nervous energy. Instinctively knowing that he'd likely never before allowed himself the luxury of discussing this with anyone, Amy hardly dared to breathe, afraid she'd spook him before he'd managed to get it all out.

"Still, things would've been fine if only I weren't so selfish," he finally continued. "I should have taken her home, as soon as I realized what was happening between us. But I wanted her, had convinced myself that I _needed_ her, by then. She promised me forever and, like a fool, I let myself believe it; let her closer all the time and dreamed of the impossible." The Doctor reached up, rubbing his temples hard with a hand, then stilled, his eyes falling closed. "But that dream had a price, and oh, I paid it when I lost her. Paid and paid, but I didn't learn a single thing because the instant she came back the dreaming started right up again, only then it was worse. Because by that point I was determined to do everything in my power to make it come true."

Amy sniffled, blinking back tears. She already knew how well that had gone for him. Without further thought she wrapped her arms around his narrow waist, hugging him tight through the rough-textured coat, and he laid his cheek against the top of her head.

They sat like that for a bit, together, just breathing. "You shouldn't feel sorry for me, Amy," he said, low. "Every selfish, unwise action has its repercussions. If I'd never allowed myself to desire, to dream, of something that I had no right to, it never could have hurt me." His chest constricted as he breathed out a tiny laugh. "Though I must admit, I never imagined the aftereffects would be quite _this_ far reaching. But I suppose it's only fair. Even after all this time, after everything that's happened, the dreaming still hasn't stopped. So why should the consequences?"

Neither of them moved, the only sound in the room their combined breaths, the pain in his confession settling heavy on them both. But it wasn't too long before Amy pulled back from him slightly and laid her right palm against his cheek, gently turning his face to hers so she could look him deep in the eyes. 

"Moron."

Obviously taken aback, his forehead creased as he stared at her, blinking.

"Doctor, you cannot seriously be telling me that you don't have the right to fall in love. That it's _selfish._ You made each other happy; even if it was only for _one single day_ how is that in any way a bad thing?" She squeezed his upper arm tightly for emphasis. "And let's pretend that I believe your rubbish little _'I'm like fire'_ analogy. Who decided that Rose is the... the kindling? Maybe she's the air that gives the fire life and lets it burn even brighter. I wish you hadn't lost her, Doctor. I know that it hurts, and I know you miss her terribly. But please, you have got to let go of the guilt, okay? Just because your dream of being with Rose didn't come true doesn't mean it couldn't have. Or that you didn't deserve her. It doesn't mean you were wrong for wanting her in the first place."

He gave his head a shake, smiling only slightly, but the shadows darkening his face had lessened enough for Amy to see that she'd at least somewhat gotten through to him. "Amy Pond. Always trying to make me feel better. I knew there was a reason I've kept you around."

She let her head fall back against his shoulder. "Who knows what could happen in future, Doctor? Maybe you'll even fall in love again someday," she said, just to try and lighten the mood a bit. "Just... make sure it's not with me, okay? I'm sorry, but you already had your chance there, and you totally missed it. That ship sailed a long time ago."

She felt him grin, his cheek sliding against the side of her head. Amy gave him another quick, tight squeeze and thought about how unfair it all was. He was so wonderful, her Doctor, and the last of his kind. He'd lost so much and saved so many. If anyone deserved to have a dream fulfilled, to have the one he loved forever at his side, it was him. Yet she knew he'd never likely want anyone the way he wanted Rose. And try as she might, Amy just couldn't imagine any decent way for him to have her.

 

********

 

"...Toby? Well yeah, he definitely liked her, but I don't think we worried about him too much, did we?"

"No, not Toby, but wait. Wait wait wait wait wait. I've got an even better one. Remember the night we went out for dinner on Callisto?"

"Callisto? Jupiter's moon?"

"Yes, of course Jupiter's moon, you idiot. What other Callisto is there?"

Amy threw an arm up over her face in an attempt to block out the inconsiderate voices. The Doctors. Why were those two morons in her bedroom at this horrible hour? And having a conversation, no less? She was too tired to even yell at them; she'd barely slept at all. Amy flipped onto her side, reaching for Rory, and was rewarded with a face-full of sofa cushion. Ah. In the living room, then. She must've fallen asleep there last night.

"Well, pardon me, Mister Impatience!" the voice of Amy's Doctor floated over from the kitchen. "I was just trying to think. We haven't been to Callisto since Jack was with us."

"Yes, yes, that's the time! Remember?" John paused dramatically. "The bartender who asked Rose for her phone number!" 

Silence.

"You really don't remember? How can you not remember? That bloke who was all muscle-y? And pretty, sort of?"

"Well, yes, but why are you bringing him up? The way I remember it, at the time we were far more worried about Jack than we were some sodding thick bartender."

"Don't you think I know that? That's why it happened! After Rose yelled at us she went to the bar."

Amy's ears pricked up. She removed the arm from her head and slit open an eye.

"Ha, that's right. If I recall it correctly, she said if we wanted to be a stupid brooding plonker we could do it alone. She was probably right; that incarnation did have quite the tendency toward brooding. But I still don't know why you're mentioning the bartender. We were never jealous of _him._ "

"But see, we should've been!" sang John gleefully. "Yeah, you know he asked her for her number... but what you don't know is that she gave it to him!"

" _What_? No!"

Amy heard a delighted giggle. "Oh yes. He even rang her up a couple of times. But Rose claims the only reason she bothered with him at all was because he was from her own solar system. Well, and because _we_ certainly weren't making a move."

"So is that the reason she invited Adam along, then? Not because he was pretty? And _what_ is wrong with your toaster? Surely it shouldn't take this long to toast a piece of bread?"

"That toaster is fine; it's supposed to work like that. So Adam Mitchell, eh? You mean old _Door in the Head_?" 

"He was the worst of the lot. And so is your toaster, by the looks of it. You need to let me get you a better one. I have loads of them stored away on the TARDIS."

"We've been over this already. There is an unfortunate amount of xenophobia in this world, and I have to live here. Besides, Rose's dad would have a fit if he found an alien toaster in our kitchen."

Her Doctor didn't answer. It seemed as if their conversation was over, and for several minutes, only the soft, rhythmic sound of a knife against wood interrupted the beautiful early morning quiet. Amy gratefully sank back into the cushy sofa and closed her eyes, hugging the blanket up tight around her ears. More soft chopping lulled her, the crack and sizzle of eggs. 

The _whirr_ of the sonic.

_Snap! Snap!_

"What the hell are you doing? Get your fingers out of my face!"

"Just checking to see if you might have a door in _your_ head! I said to leave that toaster alone-"

"Oi!" yelled Amy, popping her head up to throw a fierce glare at them from over the back of the sofa. Standing in the kitchen, they both jumped, and then stared at her guiltily. Her Doctor actually looked a little bit scared, since he full well knew better than to disturb her in the morning. She probably was a frightening sight, all squinty eyes and scowls and wild red mane.

But John's eyes were sparkling, a condition that worsened the longer he looked at her. Amy glared at him harder, and when he tried to cover a snicker with a cough the Doctor elbowed him and gave Amy an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Pond. Forgot you were sleeping out here."

But Amy didn't answer, in fact she barely even heard him since a little something that had been niggling at her about John's appearance this morning had just snapped into place. As he stood there, spatula in hand, it wasn't that he looked much different, in fact, he was dressed just like he was yesterday; trousers and oxford, but he'd lost the jacket and his tie hung loosely about his neck. Only the colors had changed- bright blue had been traded for brown with pinstripes, red Chucks for white, and suddenly Amy found herself staring at a perfect, whole, clean version of the tattered outfit she'd drawn on her Raggedy Man all throughout childhood.

Amy hardly had time to digest this at all before a small blonde whirlwind blew into the room, wrapped up in a dark blue robe that was so long on her that it dragged against the floor. Amy wondered how she didn't trip on it.

Though swollen and slightly bleary-looking, Rose's eyes were wide. "Doctor! What are you doing? We're going to be late!" she exclaimed, scanning the countertops in dismay. The dark granite surfaces were barely even visible, strewn all over with bowls and cooking utensils, puddles and smears, odd bits of vegetables and broken eggshells. 

Her husband looked confused. "Rose, it's Saturday." 

"Yes, but my report! Remember? I promised Hinkel I'd have it in by seven, and that's only an hour from now!" 

"What?" A look of extreme displeasure crossed John's face. "No. No way. He has no right to expect that from you today."

"He didn't expect it. I offered, remember?"

"Who's Hinkel?" asked the bow-tied Doctor suspiciously; ready and willing to join in the dislike of anyone who might be treating Rose unfairly.

"Just my boss," Rose explained. "Got a bit behind on work yesterday, what with everything else that was going on."

"'Everything else?'"

"Tracking down your friends." She flashed him a mischievous grin and the Doctor's eyes widened.

"I _knew_ it couldn't have been a coincidence-"

"Right," interrupted John, "and that's why, even if you offered, he had no business saying yes. I don't care if he sits there waiting around in his office all bloody day, Rose. You are exhausted. There is no reason to rush."

"I made breakfast," added the Doctor proudly, waving his arms about the desolate ruins of Rose's kitchen. 

" _We_ made breakfast," corrected John.

Rose crossed her arms stubbornly and looked at the pair of them, standing next to each other, wearing identical goofy grins. Her lips twitched. "You sure you want to admit you did all this?" she asked, trying to look stern though a reluctant smile had begun to break out.

After frowning at each other, puzzled, they looked around and took in the state of their immediate surroundings. Realization dawning, their eyebrows shot up in unison. "We'll clean it up!"

Rose gave up and laughed at them, shaking her head. Encouraged, the Doctor grinned, and ran over to the dining room table and pulled out a chair. "Your seat awaits, Rose Tyler," he said, bowing grandly like some sort of posh butler. "You too, Pond," he added, yanking out the neighboring chair with his other hand. "You won't be so grumpy once you've eaten something."

Amy pursed her lips exaggeratedly as she got up. "Don't push it, Raggedy Man."

Rose and Amy settled at the table and the Doctor dashed back into the kitchen area. "Why does he call you 'Pond'?" asked Rose, turning to Amy with a curious smile.

"It was my name when he first met me. Before I was married," explained Amy. "Amelia Pond. He absolutely refuses to let it go."

"It's a brilliant name," said the Doctor defensively, coming back in with platters of toast and fruit. "A super-hero name. Much better than Williams. Williams is boring; all accountants and librarians."

"Gee, thanks," said Rory, appearing out of the blue, rubbing his tired eyes as he sat down next to Amy. She smiled at the sight of him and smoothed a fond hand over his hair, which was sticking out every which way. "Thanks a lot. I guess I should take it as a compliment then, that you insist on calling me Rory Pond."

"That's how it works," proclaimed the Doctor adamantly, and they all laughed.

The kitchen may have been a disaster, but the omelets John set in front of them were perfection. Even Rose seemed relaxed as they ate and chatted, the Doctors filling everyone in on their progress, or lack thereof, on the whole Gangly situation.

"I'm going to ring Jake right now," concluded John, shoveling in his last bite of egg and pushing back his chair, "and have him get a crew together to bring the TARDIS into Torchwood. Between her resources and my lab, we should have everything we need to find out who they are, and maybe, hopefully, what they have against me."

"Yes," said the Doctor, "and you also have me. There's no 'maybe' about it; they don't stand a chance, with two big Time Lord brains on the job."

He and Rose smiled at each other across the table, and then she jumped up, off in a rush to get ready. Amy grabbed Rory and they went to do the same. When she eventually emerged from the guest room, she was rather impressed to find that the damage to the kitchen had been mostly repaired; while John stacked away the clean pans her Doctor was wiping down countertops, whistling cheerfully. Amy smiled at the sight. He seemed much better this morning. Lighter. Perhaps talking things through last night had helped him. Whatever the reason, she was happy to see it.

It was nearing eight by the time they all headed out together. Waiting for the lift to arrive, Rose, who was beginning to look worried again, pulled her mobile out of her purse and checked it. She shook her head in relief and smiled up at John. "No messages yet, thankfully. I just might shut this off and work from Dad's office today."

"That's it, Rose Tyler, now you're thinking," replied John, with a kiss to the side of her head. The lift arrived with a muted _ding_ , the doors sliding open. "But I'd just like to see him try bothering you today." 

"Yeah," agreed the Doctor darkly, giving the flat's door a tug to secure it before joining them all in the lift. Rose shot both Time Lords a warning look. 

"I can handle Hinkel myself," she said, then pointed a finger at the one in tweed, as though she'd just thought of something. "You need a new alias, don't you? For when we get to Torchwood. 'Cos you can't both be John Smith."

"Right," the Doctor said, thinking for a minute. "Okay. I'll be Craig, then. Craig Owens. Good old friend."

Rose looked questioningly at John, who shrugged. The lift's doors opened to reveal the building's lobby and everyone stepped out, and as a group headed for the exit to the underground parking garage.

"So where's the long coat?" the Doctor asked John, quickening his pace to walk beside the longer-legged man. "Surely you've been able to find a replacement for it at some point."

John harrumphed. "That coat was irreplaceable; as you know very well. Janis Joplin gave me that coat. But, yeah, I do have one like it, I guess."

"Why aren't you wearing it? It was the best part of the whole get-up," said the Doctor charitably.

"It's summer."

"Never stopped you before."

"I wasn't part human before." John wouldn't look at him.

"Ah." The Doctor looked faintly embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Don't be," John sniffed. "Lots of benefits to being part human. No regenerating, for example. You can't imagine what a relief it is, knowing that there's no way I'll ever be you."

Everyone else giggled at the Doctor's outraged expression, but Rose went over to him and patted his arm. "Just ignore him, Doctor, he doesn't know what he's talking about. I think this new you is 'absolutely fantastic', to borrow a lovely old phrase." She gave him a smile that was nothing but sweetness and sincerity, and he looked so incredibly happy that Amy worried anew. Perhaps it wasn't their talk that had helped him, but Rose's nearness. And if so, how he would ever manage to tell her goodbye again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed a bit of fluff! More plot and reveals are coming up next!


	28. Chapter 27

Rose had been uncharacteristically quiet during the short drive to Torchwood. The Doctor knew she was worried, not just about her report, and seeing her like that further strengthened his resolve. Today was the day she would get some _good_ news.

Once they arrived at the tower she immediately departed for her father's private office. Disappointed as the Doctor was to see her go, it was probably for the best. If she were around this morning there was no way he and his double would be able to get along long enough to accomplish anything productive. 

The rest of them rode the opposite lift down a few floors, stepping out just in time to see Jake coming down the corridor. Behind him was the tall, blue form of the TARDIS being wheeled along on a very large handling cart, kept carefully upright by five perspiring agents.

"I hope you want this down here 'cos we're not hauling it anywhere else," Jake shouted, his voice carrying easily down the long stretch of bare floor. 

"This is perfect," called the human Doctor, beaming at the sight of the beloved old time-ship. "Just wheel her right into my lab."

As soon as the TARDIS was safely deposited against the back wall of the lab, Jake dismissed his helpers and sank down onto the room's battered old sofa. "You're welcome," he said, with a pointed look up at his trainer-clad friend, who standing beside him, patting the ship in welcome. "Gotta love an early Saturday morning work assignment."

The human Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and turned, offering Jake a sincere smile. "I do appreciate your help, Jake, really. Not just today. And now that I have all the TARDIS' resources at my disposal, perhaps you won't need to help me out much longer."

Jake's face softened and he kicked his feet out, crossing his ankles. "Aw, it's alright. I was kind of itching to know what you two geniuses might've come up with last night anyway."

"Not much yet, sorry," said the Doctor, with a regretful twist of his hands. "But a couple of hours in here should change that."

He smiled to himself when he noticed his double was keeping a wary eye on Amy, who in spite of a limp was making good time moving about the room, engaged in her usual curious poking around. For some unknown reason, she'd been staring at Ten all morning, and now seemed to take great pleasure in teasing him as she wandered from table to table, fingering all of the stranger items she came across. His freckled face was especially nervous when she got to his desk, but all she did was pick up a soft and bruised old apple from a glass bowl that had likely, earlier in the week, contained fresher fruit. "Yowzah," she said, with a roguish grin for the Doctor before pitching the apple back into the bowl.

"Nice lab," Amy declared, and its tenant's relief was visible when she went over and fitted herself onto the sofa left of Rory. "My, I could really use a nap. Hope you don't mind my legs, boys." She turned, stretching out over both Rory and Jake, and planted her feet directly in Jake's lap. He stared down at them, forehead creasing.

Amy was certainly back to her normal flirtatious self this morning, thought the Doctor. He shot her a look. "You do realize your actual bedroom is just right through that door, right?" he drawled, tipping his head toward the blue box standing against the wall next to the sofa.

"Oh, Raggedy Man, always ruining my fun," she complained, but got up anyway. "C'mon, Rory."

He seemed more than happy to follow her and they disappeared through the TARDIS doors.

Pinstripes stroked a hand over the ship's doorframe. "Do you think she might be up for a trip yet?" he asked, sounding more curious than hopeful.

"No," replied the Doctor. "But it's probably not a good idea, even if she was."

"Yeah," agreed the Other. "Tempting, though. It's been a long time since I've been off this planet. Well, best get to work." He looked over at Jake. "We're going inside. With the TARDIS' highly sophisticated scanner we should be able to locate the Ganglies easily, and perhaps she can even identify their species while we're at it. You can come along; watch if you'd like."

Eyeing the ship suspiciously, Jake shook his head. "I don't trust you enough. The last thing I need today is to wind up on Pluto or something. No thanks."

"Pluto?" The human Doctor wrinkled up his nose. "No ta. It's the planetary equivalent of, of..."

"Leadworth," supplied the Doctor.

"...Leadworth. Why would I want to go to Pluto?"

Jake paid them not the slightest mind. "I'll come back in a bit and see how you two are coming along." On his way to the door he paused and turned around. "I won't be sorry that I left you alone together, will I? You aren't gonna blow anything up? Or try to kill each other, for that matter?" 

The Doctor walked over to his double and threw a friendly arm around the man's thin shoulders. "Kill each other? Of course not. Getting along splendidly, me, myself and I." 

He hadn't even finished speaking before the Other shrugged him off with a scowl. "It's fine," he told Jake. "See you later."

It wasn't exaggeration or even wishful thinking; scanning for the powerful telepaths _was_ a fairly straightforward job when one had the unparalleled means of the TARDIS. The human Doctor had taken the lead with it, pushing on his specs and planting himself before the monitor, not bothering to cover over his exhilaration at just being there, again at the console of the dearly missed ship. Understanding his feelings, the Doctor stepped aside graciously. He watched the younger Time Lord's unhurried, deliberate actions- the contented gleam in his eyes as he entered the data and read over the scans, tongue pressed to the back of his teeth, the way his long fingers lingered almost reverently when working the console's dials and buttons. 

"Here we go," he announced, not even an hour later, as the results began to appear in the form of blips on the screen. "Three, five, six."

"What are our search parameters?"

"Continent wide. And that is probably overkill. It's gotta be them. I've got six individuals, non-human, located in this part of London, all of whom register a higher P-level than even a full-blood Gallifreyan." He rubbed a hand over his chin, watching the monitor. 

"Blimey." The Doctor squeezed in next to him for a closer look. "They're right in the neighborhood, aren't they? Any hits on the species yet?"

"Not yet."

"Well, this is something, isn't it? Rose will certainly be happy to hear."

"I suppose. Well, she would be. If I were ready to tell her."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"Well, now that we know their location Rose will want to send a team out right away."

The Doctor thought about this for a minute. "Why is that such a bad idea? I know we like to take care of things on our own but isn't this case a bit different? I, for one, could live without having my mind forcibly invaded, and I'd think at this point you'd just be happy to have this whole thing over with. Who knows? You could have me on my merry way before its even time for tea-"

"No!" It was sharp, quick, a little too adamant, and if he could go by the look on his double's face, entirely regretted. Curious, the Doctor raised his brows.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. But- you'll be sure to stay until this is entirely resolved, right?"

The Doctor couldn't help but look at him 'like that' even more. "Be a bit stupid for me to come all this way and then leave before I've finished what I'm here for, wouldn't it? What's weird is that I was under the impression that you, of all people, would be more than happy to see me go, and the sooner the better."

Slipping his dark-rimmed glasses off, the human Doctor rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. "Yes, yes, I will be, it's just that- we can't end it like this. Not yet. For one thing, if we bring them in now, I'll never know. I'll never know _why_ they want me dead; what they think I've done. Not to mention the fact that we still know next to nothing about them. Simply 'bringing them in' will probably be far from simple. People could get hurt or killed."

This, at least, made sense. It did seem overly simplistic, thinking that the Ganglies could be dealt with so easily. Things never went that smoothly, not for him. Especially when it had taken such drastic measures just to get here.

"Well, what should we do now?" he asked, conceding the point. "Might be quite awhile before the TARDIS finishes comparing their bio-signature with known species."

Number Ten pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Will you come back out to my lab and take a look at a scanner of mine? It's an older piece so it could use a bit of upgrading, perhaps a good work over with a proper sonic. I need a good scanner so I'd like it to be working properly once you're gone. It's been rather difficult getting my hands on decent equipment, stuck here on Earth. I pretty much have to rely on chance to deliver the parts I need."

"Difficult? Wrong is what it is, a Time Lord with no TARDIS-"

"It's alright," the Other cut him off. 

It was obviously a sore subject and the Doctor dropped it, not wishing to start an argument. He followed the taller man back out into the lab and over to a wheeled table that currently served as a resting place for a large, greyish, box-like scanner. He ran his hand over the top of it, wiping off a thin coating of dust, and let out a low whistle. "They don't make them like this anymore, do they?" he said, thinking there was probably a good reason for that. 

"You make do with what you've got," replied Pinstripes stoutly. "It picked up the Void stuff on Amy and Rory, no problem."

"So that's how you pulled off that little stunt. I should have figured as much. But the real question is- how did you know to look for them in the first place?"

With a smug smile, the human Doctor reached into his brown jacket's right pocket and pulled out a thin tube, with small round lights flashing intermittently down one side. "Void breach detector. You nearly gave me a heart attack when you came through and set this thing off. And that's no good, since I no longer have any extra hearts to spare."

The Doctor reached out a hand and took it from him, examining it closely. "But why would you need something like this at all?"

The Other's brown eyes were surprised. "Are you joking? Can't you feel it? There are fissures in the wall, on this side. Openings to the Void. I am terrified that someday the millions of Daleks trapped in there are going to stumble across one of them and get out."

At that thoroughly unsettling mental image, the Doctor closed his eyes and concentrated. He became aware of the whirling rotation of Earth as it hurtled through space, and then time's wobbly, tangled flow. It didn't take him long to find the issue in question. The other Doctor was right; instead of being solid and seamless, reality's wall was marred, several areas of it weakened by tiny fractures. But before he could properly worry over this something else caught his attention- an inherent off-ness in the precisely ticking clockwork of the universe; a tiny little hitch and quiver. Tentatively, the Doctor extended his reach, hoping to discover the source, and the itch that had been vexing his mind since he'd got here intensified immediately, burned and threw him off-focus, as though he'd been on a merry-go-round that was moving a bit too fast for a bit too long. He cut the connection, then bent forward and forced his eyes open, hauling in deep, shaky breaths. 

Strong hands gripped his shoulders. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Managing one quick look up into the other Time Lord's concerned face, the Doctor shook his head and sucked in another gulp of air. 

"It's terrible; I don't know how you've been able to stand it," he said roughly, rubbing the sides of his head with both hands, hoping to subdue the double-time throbbing in his ears. 

"Are- are the breaches that bad?"

"No, no, not the breaches. How time runs here. At first I thought it was just a difference between universes, but it's far more than that. It's not _right._ Have you ever really tried to look at it? Properly?"

"No," admitted the Other, embarrassment pinking the fair skin of his face. "To be honest, I've mostly blocked my time sense long ago, for that very reason. I just couldn't adjust. And I don't have a need for it anymore, not really, not like I did when I was time traveling."

The Doctor wrung his hands, thinking of how he'd felt time like that before; just once. Tangled and broken and so very _wrong_ it had made his skin crawl, though at the time he'd tried to blame the prickling gooseflesh on over-excitement and adrenaline. It had been deliberate and dreadful and entirely his fault. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relive the terrible sensation, and along with it, the terrible memory. Arriving on Earth with frightened survivors from the Mars' incident in tow. Adelaide Brooks' accusing glare. 

And a once vital, secure point in time left mangled and shattered. 

"Someone was tampering with fixed events," he said, squinting at his double as he wondered how it could possibly be true.

The other Doctor paled. "What? But that's not possible. And why- _why_ are you looking at me like that? It certainly wasn't _me,_ if that's what you're thinking! I'd never do something like that!"

"Oh, you'd be surprised," the Doctor muttered.

"Wait," said his other self suddenly. "Come look at this." He dashed over to his desk and sat down in the chair, leaning forward to yank open the drawer on the bottom left. After tossing a few odds and ends out to scatter across the floor, he took his sonic from his inner jacket pocket and pointed its blue beam inside the drawer. The bottom popped up immediately and the human Doctor carefully removed the hefty piece of oak-veered metal, revealing a shallow compartment hidden underneath. He pulled out an object and laid it carefully on top of his desk. 

"There's one of 'em," he said, looking up. 

"But that's... that's a fast return switch. An old school one, too, like the one we had on our console ages ago. Where did you find it?"

"Down in the Torchwood archives. There's more in the vaults," he said, pulling a few other objects out and setting them next to the first. "These are just the small bits. Always figured they came in through a rift; some sort of a fluke, a miracle. I'd been saving them to use once our TARDIS was ready."

"Travel between parallel universes wasn't _always_ impossible," breathed the Doctor, weighing a red toggle knob in his palm before looking up to find his other self's face mirrored his own horror. "What if it happened a long time ago, before Gallifrey was destroyed? Look at the evidence," he said, nodding to the parts on the desk. "Time Lords had to have been here. Who else could have meddled with time? I'd ask myself why, but they probably didn't need a reason besides wanting to prove that they could do it. Arrogance. And they could do whatever they wanted here without putting their own universe at risk."

They were both quiet, thinking.

"Well, so what if they did?" said the human Doctor, after a bit. "I can't fix the problem; not without a TARDIS. Maybe not even if I did have. So at this point, what difference does it make?"

"Right," said the Doctor slowly. "There's always the risk of long-term effects, but still... wait." His jaw dropped and he stared at the spiky-haired man at his side. "What if they're related?"

"What if what are- you mean... oh! The Ganglies." He sucked in a long breath. "You think that whatever the Time Lords did affected them. Maybe that's why they hate me."

"It's the only thing we've come up with so far that makes any sort of sense."

"True, but," the human Doctor grabbed fistfuls of his hair and released it, throwing his hands out, "it's still just speculation. Yes, we have evidence, but no _proof._ And even if we could prove that the Time Lords tampered with events right here, what good does that do me? I'm still one of them, in the eyes of the Ganglies. One of the bad guys."

"Yes, but you're also part _human._ Citizen of Earth. We can use that. So what if... what if we could prove that at least one of the differences between this Earth and the one in Prime was _not_ a natural diversion? Not only would it be strong evidence that the Time Lords also tampered with events on the Ganglies' home planet, wherever that may be, but maybe, just maybe, we can use it to help them to see you as a _victim,_ just like they are, instead of a perpetrator."

It was a brilliant plan, thought the Doctor, smiling and fisting his hands in triumph. Well-honed intuition told him that this had to be their answer. It was going to _work._ And somehow, though success would mean his subsequent departure, he felt good. At peace. Because now it was his turn; his chance to make things better for Rose. Just as she'd once done for him, when all he'd wanted to do was die.

This also meant that his other self's life was about to return to its previous state of (what the Doctor imagined to be) blissful perfection. So why hadn't the man said so much as a word? He was just staring down at the scanner without really seeing it, while the hand on the back of his head worked hard to make the shorter hair as mussed as the long thatch on top. Blimey, would it hurt him to show a little excitement? Was he sulking? No, he couldn't remember ever being petulant over having needed a little help. Especially not in his Tenth incarnation. No, that form should be whooping and bounding about the lab in victorious glee by now, no matter had who solved the problem.

The Doctor shoved at his shoulder. "What's the deal with you? Don't you think it's gonna work? Our plans always work; we're geniuses, remember?"

He gave a small, rueful shake of his messy-haired head. "You're right," he said. "It makes perfect sense." Yet his hesitant, skeptical eyes, when he looked up, made the Doctor feel like a child, like he was being _humored._ He wanted to call him out on it. But what good would it do? 

Besides, he was already walking away toward his desk. On reaching it, he sat down in a chair and looked up at the Doctor expectantly. "What are you waiting for? Let's get to it, I guess."

 

********

 

No superior TARDIS resources were needed for the next part, just a computer with internet access, so the two Time Lords spent the next couple of hours seated at the human Doctor's desk, researching every disparity between their two universes that they could possibly come up with. It was a good thing that the Doctor who lived here had early on deemed it important to brush up on his Pete's World history, back when he still thought he might see some of it for himself. But so far, not one of the diversions he'd rattled off had turned out to have been caused by a single climatic event.

Yet it was just the sort of task that allowed their brilliant, nearly identical minds to work together in perfect harmony, and so engrossed were they that neither of them registered the sound of the door opening. Stretching, the Doctor was surprised to find a tall, straight-backed man with a severe lack of facial expression approaching them, his eyes darting about as though he were looking for someone. When the Doctor in pinstripes noticed him he slowly raised from his chair, both hands planted against the desk. He too sported a lack of expression, but on him the Doctor knew exactly what it meant- he did not like this man. 

The man's penetrating gaze fell on the human Doctor. "Tyler not in today?" 

His syllables were clipped and demanding and he was looking for Rose. Suddenly the Doctor understood. He knew who this must be. Hinkel.

Rose's husband swept up an untidy pile of papers from a corner the desk and began to shuffle them noisily, flicking his thumbnail back and forth across their creased and wrinkled edges. "Nope," he said, cheerfully. "Rose is not 'in'. Wellll, not in this lab, as far as I know, though I must admit I haven't checked behind the sofa for at least a good thirty minutes. Why are _you_ in, by the way? I thought only mad workaholics came in on Saturdays."

The CEO scowled. "I wouldn't be, if I weren't still waiting on your wife for a very important incident report." 

The human Doctor's spine stiffened but kept his tone light. "Oh, I understand. This whole place might go to pieces if it waited until Monday." 

"As if you have any idea what it takes to keep a company like this running properly."

Shifting in his seat, the Doctor just barely avoided rolling his eyes. _Humans._ He sometimes forgot how petty, how small some of them could be, engaged in a pointless quest to exert power over one another. The trait irked him at the best of times but this guy was foisting his narrow-minded precepts onto Rose, and was therefore treading on dangerous ground. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to sit back and let his counterpart handle it. 

Maybe he wouldn't have to, he thought, as Hinkel's attention moved to inspect the bow-tie and tweed. "Who's this?" the man demanded. "Aren't you aware that unauthorized personnel are against Torchwood policy? You can't just bring a friend in!"

Ten snorted. "Oh, trust me, he's not a friend."

The Doctor walked out from behind the desk and extended a friendly hand. "John Smith," he said, deciding he liked the old alias best for this particular circumstance.

"No, that's me, you idiot. Remember?" said his other self, coolly. 

"Right, sorry. You can understand why I get us mixed up." He let his hand drop, Hinkel having made no move to take it. "Sorry for the confusion. I'm the Doctor. Here to help. Not usually authorized." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Do you need to be authorized to help on this planet?"

Other Him tilted his head and hummed non-committally. 

"This isn't a joke," said Hinkel, glaring daggers at them both. "According to protocol, I should be calling security right now."

"Well, it's a good thing that you're such an understanding sort of chap," said the Doctor, smiling. "And you needn't worry, we've hardly been in this building at all. We've spent most of the morning doing research, right over here in my spaceship." He gestured toward the Police Box, her unique hue especially bright against the monotone wall. "Her interior is in another dimension and everything." 

Hinkel's face flushed and he pressed his lips together, looking away to address the brown-suited Doctor. "This, exactly, is the problem with you, Smith. You never take anything seriously. You're always making other people's jobs more difficult, and that wife of yours is no better. Neither of you would be employed here if you weren't related to Pete Tyler."

Both Time Lords went ominously still. "All of that may be true about me, but you need to be careful what you say about Rose," said her husband, his voice low and dangerous. "You've made her life bloody difficult these last few weeks, and now it's high time for you to lay off."

After a lightning fast exchange with his other self, the human Doctor took a wilted apple from the bowl on his desk. Tossing it lightly back and forth between two hands, he fixed the haughty man with a look so cold with unspoken threat that it made him take an unconscious step back. "I'd also appreciate it if you'd stop calling me Smith. It's the Doctor," he stated, capturing the apple squarely in one hand. He held it out on his flat palm, and Hinkel stared, riveted, as its soft texture firmed, its faded skin smoothed, and by the time the apple regained its shining red freshness the stone-faced CEO had gone limp and white. 

The human Doctor lobbed the fruit to Hinkel, who somehow managed to catch it. "And you know what they say about an apple a day," he told him. "It's good advice. Show some respect to my wife and you'll get the same result."

The man nodded, staring numbly at the piece of fruit in his hand while he stumbled back, reaching behind him for the doorknob. As he successfully escaped the Doctor called out after him. "Have a lovely weekend, by the way! Did you know it was Saturday? You should go home now!"

He turned and grinned at his counterpart, who was staring wistfully at the green-tipped screwdriver that, until this moment, had been concealed in the Doctor's hand. "Good old setting 8976B," he said, with more than a hint of longing. "I still can't re-hydrate organic matter with mine; it won't calibrate properly." His gaze lifted to meet the Doctor's. "Thanks, by the way. But it's probably best if we don't tell Rose we did that."

The Doctor chuckled. "I'd say it was worth it. Where's that bugger get off, thinking he can treat Rose that way? No, scratch that. I'm more surprised that she's put up with it. How long has this been going on?"

"Oh, since this thing with the Ganglies started. When I couldn't do field work anymore Rose opted to work a desk job, but unfortunately, she now reports to him directly. She hasn't complained, but I probably should have warned him off before now."

His nonchalance was like a dash of petrol on the flame of distrust that had been smoldering deep within the Doctor. He hadn't been lying when he told Amy that he believed his Tenth self was too reckless with Rose. Finding out the truth about his double's brush with death had done nothing to assuage these fears, yet the part of the Doctor whispering _hypocrite_ had made him bite his tongue. But now he saw the blunder in that reasoning. He and his double may be the same person, but their circumstances were vastly different. The Doctor had no one depending on him.

"You've let him treat her like that for a few _weeks?_ Rose may like to handle things on her own but that doesn't mean she _should_. Blimey, what good are you if you don't protect her?" The Doctor shoved his screwdriver back into his jacket and tromped across the linoleum toward his stoic-faced younger self, his frustration and anger mounting with every step. "How do you expect me to just leave her behind if I don't see you taking proper care of her? And I'm not just talking about bloody Hinkel. In that dream I _saw,_ over and over and over, just how scared she was when you nearly died. You aren't allowed to risk your life, risk _abandoning_ her, just because you're tired of not having as much freedom as you've been used to! Bloody ridiculous is what it is. It's past time for you to stop being so selfish. She promised us forever, remember? And you're.... you're the one who gets to promise it back. I need to know that you mean to follow through!"

He expected, wanted even, for this to be met with deep offense and indignation, but the human Doctor was silent. He picked up a pen from the desk, staring at it as he rolled it between his fingers. "Trust me," he said without looking up, "there's nothing I want more. Problem is, what I want and what ends up happening are sometimes two very different things."

As if another stupid cryptic statement wasn't infuriating enough, blast it all, that veil of hopelessness had settled over his features again. The Doctor's anger climbed to the boiling point and it was all he could do to refrain from sweeping everything from the desk with a dash of his arm. "Why are you such a defeatist all of a sudden? I know you didn't get that from Donna! If you'd only pay attention I'd think you'd take the TARDIS sending me all this way to help you as a pretty good sign that things'll probably be just fine, _perfect_ even, if you'll just exercise reasonable caution from here on out!"

Finally, he provoked a reaction. The human Doctor growled, clenching his fists, and kicked the side of the desk. "No, no, no, if anyone's not paying attention it's you!" he shouted, uncurling one hand to shove at the Doctor's chest. "The TARDIS may have sent you here, but it's _not_ to help me defeat the bloody Ganglies-"

"Are you _kidding_ -"

"Will you shut up and listen for once? Do I look like I'm kidding?" His nostrils flared, his breaths fast and shallow. "I don't want to tell you this, but since I'm almost entirely certain that it's the only way to avoid an _enormous stinking paradox_ , I'm gonna keep talking. The person who saved me, that day in the park? It was _Rose._ She saved my life, chased off the creatures, hell, I'm pretty sure she even called the bloody _ambulance,_ but problem is, if I told her that, she'd never believe me. She knows full well that at the time she was sitting at her desk, completely unaware, until so much pain echoed back through our link that she spilled coffee everywhere. She has the dry-cleaning bill to prove it."

Shock iced his veins, supplanting all the anger in his blood, and the Doctor supported himself with a hand on the desk. "So you're telling me what, exactly?" he asked, struggling to understand. "That, that she was in two places at once?"

"Yeah," he responded, his voice gone flat and utterly lifeless, like ashes. "Thing is, it's not the only time it's happened. I've been seeing this, this _future version_ of Rose, off and on for years. And you know there's only one way that's possible. She's time traveling. At first I thought I could explain it; it kept me from giving up on our TARDIS. But now.... much as I've tried, I just can't ignore the fact that there's a much, much simpler explanation standing right here, right before my eyes."

His ribcage constricted until the Doctor could hardly draw breath. "What? You don't think... you think _I've_ been bringing her? Why would I do that?"

"One word," he stated quietly, a dimple appearing as his jaw went tight. _"'Forever.'_ It's why you're here, don't you see? The TARDIS didn't send you here to save my life." His Adam's apple bobbed painfully in his throat. "She sent you here to keep my promise."

"Oh, I don't like these serious looks at all," came a bright, cheerful voice that was somehow able to pierce through the roaring in the Doctor's ears. Both of them started, turning almost trance-like to see Rose herself come in. She was wearing a wide smile, though it dimmed a little when she saw their faces. "Please don't tell me you boys are arguing again."

Her husband recovered himself first, running a hand through his hair and smiling back. "Us, arguing? We'd never," he said, looking at the Doctor in wide-eyed mock innocence. _Play along._

"Best of friends, us," the Doctor hastened to agree, pasting on a bright smile. "Pals. Homies, even."

"Riiight," said Rose. "Anyway, I've come down to warn you two- Mum's on her way. I called and told her we had a work project come up so we couldn't make it for lunch today, and she insisted on having it here instead. I'm sorry, but she wouldn't take no for an answer. You know Mum." She chewed on the nail of her index finger. "Any idea how we're gonna break the news?" she asked, looking at the Doctor.

"The news?" asked the Doctor, and then his very preoccupied mind suddenly realized she meant him. He was the news. "Oh, right. Blimey."

He knew his valiant attempt to look both frightened and put out had succeeded when Rose started giggling. But truthfully, at this moment he hardly cared about Jackie Tyler. He couldn't. Not when his counterpart's improbable claims were cycling through his head on an endless loop, loud, fast, sifting and sorting, over and over, separating the grain from the chaff. Until at last, out of all of it, only the tiniest bit remained. One word. One word that was solid, one word he could trust, whilst all of his carefully drawn conclusions, having lost the foundation they were built upon, came crashing down around him.

_Forever._

It now stood as the only certainty. Rose would have her promised forever- with one of him.

She should never be his, would never be his. Not without some insane, heart-breaking disaster. 

_His._

No. By now, hadn't time had handed out more than enough disasters? More than enough angst?

But he'd thought that before. Time had never seemed to take the hint.


	29. Chapter 28

The Doctor was doing his utmost to act normally, but just keeping himself mentally present was proving to be a remarkably difficult task. Shock still hummed all through him, kept dragging him back down into his own thoughts. Rose, time-traveling? Try as he might, the Doctor just couldn't wrap his mind around it at all. It had the potential to change everything, and he was desperate for more information. How was she doing it? Why? And _what,_ yes, _what,_ could it possibly mean?

His duplicate held at least some of the answers. The Doctor was certain he'd been about to offer them up, like precious, shimmering jewels, but then they had been cruelly interrupted by _Jackie Tyler's lunch schedule_ and oh, he wasn't sure if he'd ever experienced anything quite so frustrating. 

It was only when his left eyelid began to twitch that the Doctor realized he'd been absently staring at nothing. Again. Blinking rapidly, he twisted his mouth into what he suspected was a poor semblance of a smile and told himself to pay attention to what Rose was saying. This was ridiculous. He needed to get his act together or she was going to say he was being weird, and it wouldn't be much of a leap for her intuitive mind to tie his weirdness to the conversation she'd just caught him and the Other having. That would be bad.

Rose finished relating her afternoon plans and the Doctor felt her dark eyes bore into him. She bit her lip speculatively, and he was certain he looked not only weird but also guilty.

The three of them stood together in a small circle in the middle of the lab. She leaned over to the Doctor and patted his arm, then gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry," she told him, and he was quietly grateful to see she was actually misreading him for once in her life. "Once Mum understands why you're here, I think she'll be happy. She might even kiss you." 

Her mouth curled up teasingly and the Doctor made a face, happy that his feelings about this prospect needn't be fabricated or hidden. 

"But..." Rose added, in an aside to her husband, " _you_ might want to watch out. Well, you and me both, though I'm sure she'll mostly blame you, like always."

_"Me?"_ he said, mouth agape. "What did I do?"

"Regal Theatre," she said simply. "Got in the papers."

Groaning, he covered his face with a hand. "Great. Fantastic. Just what I need today. Of course that's what your mother would be most upset about, some silly incident in the papers, whereas _he_ can go and put entire universes at risk and that's just fine, thanks." 

He paused, eyes going to contemplate the Doctor. "Although, technically," he said, with a tilt of his head, "whatever happened last night is _your_ fault. We'd have never been at that theatre if you hadn't gone and breached the void. You practically forced our hand."

"Oi, you aren't gonna blame everything on me-"

"Boys!" Rose cut in. "Calm down, it's just my mum, not a Dalek."

Pinstripes caught the Doctor's eye over the top of Rose's head and silently mouthed _"Rather have the Dalek."_ Nodding, the Doctor was about to grin when he saw a frowning Rose watching him, having caught this exchange. He pressed his lips together.

"Anyway," said Rose, turning back to her Doctor, "Dad's here, and I need you to go and fill him in on what's been happening. I want him on our side, since he can settle Mum down better than anyone."

Her husband shifted indecisively on the balls of his feet. "Me? Can't you tell him? We're kind of in the middle of something-"

"Yeah, noticed that. It didn't look like a very nice something," she told him. "But really, I..." Rose wrinkled her nose sheepishly. "I haven't had a chance to say hello to the TARDIS yet." She glanced toward the time-ship, still parked against the back wall. "And I'm afraid that if I don't do it now, well, I might miss my chance."

Guilt swept over the Doctor. "Rose," he said, and waited until her gaze flicked his way. "I won't leave without telling you goodbye this time. I promise."

She studied him for a moment. "Yeah, alright. But I still wanna see her now."

"I'm sure she'll be happy to see you too, Rose. Why don't you go ahead? I'll be along shortly." 

This was good; all he needed was a few minutes alone with the Other and then he would know everything. But Rose wasn't going, she just stood there and looked up at her husband, all big soft doe eyes with eyebrows raised hopefully. "So you'll talk to Dad? Right now?"

The Doctor began to wring his hands. He had never been able to resist that look. His counterpart was surely going to give in. But he couldn't just leave; they needed to finish their conversation. Rose had been time-traveling. And he, the Doctor, singular owner of a time-machine, was _supposedly her designated driver._ He cuffed his boot against the heel of the Other's dirty white plimsoll to communicate his displeasure, and when this was ignored, barely kept from clutching at the man's sleeve.

"Alright," said the human Doctor, exhaling, and the Doctor's nails bit into his fists. "You win. See you at lunch."

Rose smiled her gratitude, and as the one with the answers swanned off the Doctor gritted his teeth and turned away, trying to calm himself with a long breath through his nose. He stared at the lab's one small window. It was set high in the wall since this level of the building was partially below ground, and although the Doctor couldn't actually see out, the sun shone in bright and hot. It would be high in the sky by now, the day half over, and wonky time or no, the Doctor could still feel the clock ticking. His ship was already strong enough for travel. Strong enough to pass through the Void for the last time. 

Perhaps even strong enough to... make a few other stops first?

"Doctor?"

He jerked his head around to find Rose was looking at him expectantly. 

Rose. Only Rose.

Well. Perhaps his counterpart's departure did have its bright side.

"Looks like it's just the two of us now, Rose Tyler," said the Doctor, offering her his arm and trying not to think about how long it had been since he'd last been able to say that. "Your tour awaits."

With a small airy laugh, Rose placed her hand in the crook of his arm and he sported her across the room, right up to the doorstep of the big blue box. There he opened the door, gesturing for her to proceed inside first. As he trailed in behind her, he waited for her reaction with baited breath.

Pausing just steps inside, not unlike the first time she crossed the threshold of his marvelous ship, Rose gasped, hand flying to her mouth. Her golden head slowly turned this way and that, chin tilting up and then down, as she took in the curves and glass of the new (and improved, he thought) interior. In profile the Doctor could see her surprise becoming a smile, and her eyes shone.

Hair flying, she twirled back quickly to face him. "Oh, she's changed!" 

The lights flickered a welcome and Rose spun again, skipped up the steps and went over to the console to run her hand along its rounded edge. "Yes, love, you are beautiful. But you were beautiful before, you know. Oh, how I've missed you!"

She paid the Doctor no attention at all as she flitted around, enthralled with inspecting every redesign and addition. He stood at the foot of the stairs, quietly noticing how blonde hair and impossibly wide smiles weren't at all out of place in the brand-new surroundings, but instead were exactly what had been missing; like a beautiful portrait hung on an empty wall. He couldn't resist the temptation to imagine that this situation was permanent, she was here to stay. That they were ready to be off, about to embark on a new adventure.

_Together._

Or perhaps... some sort of farewell tour?

_"You think I've been bringing her?"_ His question was still ticking away, loud and important and incredibly distracting, in the back of the Doctor's mind. And it was here, alone with Rose in the console room of his TARDIS, that the possibilities hit him in such a powerful rush that he staggered forward a bit, and was glad she hadn't seen him clutch the railing with both hands in order to maintain his balance. 

He suppressed a growl and gripped the railing tighter to keep from marching off after his other self and shaking the explanations out of him. No doubt there was a misunderstanding somewhere. This was no good. He didn't want to hope, not now when he was just beginning to resign himself to the inevitable end. He'd come, he would save, and then he would leave. 

_Alone._

His ears rang with remembered words. _"Don't you dare die and leave me alone here again!"_ Rose's tearful declaration was his dream's painful climax, spoken to her husband only once- but the Doctor had heard it again and again, like some sort of unwilling eavesdropper. It was what the TARDIS had chosen to show him, in order to motivate his return.

And for the first time, he found himself wondering why. 

Why had he been shown a very personal conversation? Why not the attack itself? Yes, the dream had done its job; it was easy to see that something had gone wrong in their lives. Yet he'd been given no details. He had simply assumed that if there was a problem, the TARDIS must want him to fix it. It was what he did. Help.

_Assumed._ Assumed he was sent here to help. To save the Other's life.

What if he had gotten it wrong? What if he hadn't been brought here to save his double's life?

Could he possibly, possibly be here to keep his double's promise?

The Doctor slumped down onto the first step and screwed his eyes shut. He knew he was way overthinking this. Here he was again, jumping to wild conclusions without any real evidence to back them up.

At the sound of soft laughter he looked up to find Rose, who had evidently finished exploring the console room, was now engaged in a close range study of him from her chosen perch three steps directly above.

"Some tour guide you are," she grinned, showing a hint of pink tongue. "Going off on a trip without me. Care to share with the rest of the class?"

He grinned back, carefully tucking away his wild musings so she wouldn't suspect. "Um. How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough to count the grey hairs in your crown," she said seriously, leaning in for a closer look. "You've seven."

The Doctor clapped a hand to the top of his head and glared up at her, indignant. "I don't, Rose Tyler!" He glared harder when she burst out laughing. She had to be having him on!

"Lord," she wheezed, wiping her eyes. "You're even more vain than my Doctor!"

Now he tacked on a scowl, partly from her accusation and partly because of how she'd used the word 'my' to distinguish between him and the Other. "Time Lords don't get grey hairs. Not unless it's on purpose!"

"Or if they're part human," she added carelessly, offering her hand to him with fingers outstretched in invitation. "C'mon, then, you very not-grey guide. I want the grand tour. Gimme my money's worth."

He couldn't resist that.

 

*******

 

The "grand tour" ended up including nothing more than the kitchen, but only because it couldn't be topped. Rose squealed, a sound of pure, unadulterated delight, the instant they entered. "It's Ralph's Cafe!" she exclaimed, beaming at the Doctor before climbing onto one of the shiny red barstools like an excited little girl. 

He watched her, totally confused, and then felt like slapping himself across the forehead. Bugger it all- _Ralph's Cafe._ How could he not have noticed? The kitchen had looked like this for weeks, not that he'd spent much time at all in here recently, but still. The TARDIS-created motif was an exact replica of the little hole-in-the-wall near Powell Estates that they'd fled to more times than he could remember, often in an effort to escape Jackie's cooking. They'd sit there for hours, indulging in greasy fried food and laughing themselves silly. 

"'S too bad Ralph's not here," Rose continued, her voice full of yearning. "I'd give anything for some of his chips right now. Haven't had any for years that even come close."

"They don't have good chips here?" the Doctor asked, still looking around as he carefully perched on the stool beside her. Ralph's Cafe. He couldn't decide whether to kiss the stupid wall or yell at his manipulative, interfering ship and demand to know just what she thought she was playing at.

"Well, they're okay, but no matter where I've gotten them there's always been something, I dunno, just sort of wrong." She faced him, propped an elbow on the bar and slanted a cheek against her hand. "That's partly why Mum's so keen on us not missing lunch with her today. She's getting it catered from this new place in town that she discovered a couple weeks ago, since then she's all 'oh, sweetheart, these are the chips you've been looking for'," Rose mimed in an uncanny imitation of Jackie Tyler. "'S been kind of her mission lately. I wish she'd stop, but I think she's got it in her head that if she finds me good chips then she'll have a way to fatten me up a bit. She's always on about how _thin_ I am."

The Doctor gave Rose a careful look over. She looked fine to him. Healthy. But then again, the notions Jackie Tyler got in her head at times had never had much to do with reality or common sense.

They spent awhile just sitting there, chatting as easily as they always had, and the Doctor soaked up every second without needing to pretend it was anything but what it was. Rose had wanted to know about Mickey right off, and the Doctor was glad to have news to report, enjoying how her eyes lit up with surprise and happiness as he told of her childhood friend's marriage to Martha and how the two worked together as freelance agents. He carefully glided over the fact that this news wasn't exactly new, and that he had no idea where the two were these days. Next it was Sarah Jane, then Jack. He had Sarah Jane's wedding to relate but nothing, save an apologetic look, for when she asked about Jack, thinking of a certain time-traveling archaeologist and the dubious origin of her vortex manipulator. Rose, kind and understanding as always, didn't push him on it, nor did she bring up the subject of Donna.

All in all, he felt content and happy, more so than he had in a long time. This was just so them, so right, her fitting smoothly back into his life as if she had never left. But the time allotted for their visit was swiftly drawing to an end, though even if they didn't have to head out, Amy'd surely interrupt them before too long. The Doctor stretched and reluctantly looked at his watch. "You want the rest of that tour? We have, oh, maybe twenty minutes."

Rose hesitated, staring down at the bar, then up at him through her lashes. "Um, would you mind if I went off for a bit by myself? I have a little something that I'd like to do."

The Doctor read her easily. She wanted to see her old room. "Of course. You'll find the door where it's always been. I haven't moved anything."

She smiled at this and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and then she slid off the stool and was gone. Only a faint trace of her scent and the softly swinging door proved she'd ever been there at all.

That, and his skin still tingled where her lips had brushed it. The Doctor touched his fingertips to the spot and sighed. Without Rose and her joyous sparkle the kitchen now felt depressingly empty. Well, not the kitchen. Ralph's Cafe. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that, nor did he feel up to pondering his ship's possible motivations as he got up, intent on heading back to the console room. Not that that sounded very appealing either. He was pushing the bar on the glass door when suddenly, a brilliant idea rushed into his mind.

"Oh, Rose Tyler," he said, as he returned to the other end of the kitchen and rummaged through the tall pantry next to the refrigerator. "Maybe there's still one thing I can give you that he can't."

 

********

 

It was a stretch, but on the third try Rose successfully yanked the zip the rest of the way, closing it over the items she'd packed tight in the pink nylon knapsack. It was a worn, beaten old thing, crossed with smudges and stains and more than a few little rips- the souvenirs of countless adventures. She lay back on the equally pink comforter of her old bed and tossed the bag on the floor, grinning as she recalled the Doctor's very vocal, yet unwarranted, hatred of it. _"It's bloody impractical, Rose! It will just slow us down!"_ He was wrong on both counts, of course, since the bag wasn't _that_ big. And it had come in very handy on more than one occasion, especially when she knew they'd be spending at least one night away from the TARDIS. 

But it was on his favorite argument that she'd finally managed to shut him up on the subject forever. _"What could you possibly need that I don't already have in my very superior dimensionally transcendental pockets, Rose?"_

Despite having come up with no less than a dozen mental responses to that question, Rose had long been happy to ignore his moaning. After all, he was only a man and an alien one at that, so what did he know? Until, unfortunately, he tried it on one of the days when Rose wasn't quite the patient and tolerant Rose that he was used to. He'd been trying to coax her off the sofa for a good thirty minutes, being a massive pest about a vague and very doubtful 'something' (which he'd both refused to describe and was entirely too enthusiastic about) that she just _had_ to see. At last Rose sighed and gave in, rolling off the sofa regretfully, but not before reaching off to the side for her trusty pink pack. 

At the sight of it, the Doctor's sigh was deep and pathetic, almost as if he were suffering, so when he opened his mouth and asked her that question for the gazillionth time Rose decided it was high time to put him out of his misery.

Slumping back on the couch, she'd glared at him balefully, like a cat, through slitted eyelids. "Tampons."

These days, he carried them around for her in his (still dimensionally-transcendental) pockets without batting so much as an eyelash.

Well, one of him did, anyway. The other one, the one who would likely still gape like a landed fish over the very idea, was waiting for her in the TARDIS kitchen. Rose crawled off the bed and slung the knapsack over her shoulder, looking around one last time and vaguely feeling like someone had died. Her old self. The life she'd once dreamed of.

"Way to be melodramatic, Tyler," she said aloud. What did she have to be sad about? She certainly hadn't expected to end up in her old room on the TARDIS this weekend, but that was in no way a bad thing. She'd finally gotten her chance to say a proper goodbye, to retrieve a few wanted things from her life here, and spend some time with her old Doctor. And now? Well, now she could finally stop worrying, after all this time. Couldn't she? He was fine. Granted, he was still in love with her, she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that, but he'd be okay. Probably. He had great companions to look out for him.

But as Rose wound her way back to the kitchen she realized she'd never stop worrying. How could she? She loved him too much. But tough as it was, she had to let him go. He was a centuries-old Time Lord, not some little lost puppy who needed a home. 

Even if he did look like one sometimes. 

The eager, excited way he bounded up to her when she pushed the glass door open did nothing to dispel that image. He wore a pleased, sloppy half grin, like he'd just discovered a brand-new planet, and the air, Rose suddenly realized, was thick and fragrant with a very familiar scent. Her gaze shot past him to a red plastic basket, sitting on the closest table, and heaped over with- 

"Chips?" she squealed, delighted. "You made me chips?" She skipped over and snatched up the biggest one she could see, golden and crispy, off of the steaming pile, and bit it in half. Oh, _heavenly._ Rose moaned with pleasure at the taste. "It's gorgeous!"

His new green eyes watched her, looking thrilled with her response. "Of course, Rose Tyler, they're made with only the best, Prime Universe ingredients. No matter what your mother says, I think _these_ are the chips you've been searching for."

She laughed and went to him, impulsively throwing her arms around his neck. He stiffened, inhaling sharply, and Rose saw her mistake. She tried to pull back, but was prevented by his own arms flying up to lock tight around her waist. 

He turned his face to her hair, breathing her in. "Doctor," she said quietly, but he held fast.

"Stay," he whispered, like he couldn't hold it in, and she knew he meant it as much, much more than a plea for a longer embrace.

She shook her head. "Oh, Doctor. You... you don't need me. Not really. But he does. Said it yourself, the last time I saw you. Remember?" 

His chest shook, vibrating against hers in a mirthless chuckle. "Yes. I said he needed you. But I _never_ said that I didn't." As her breath caught at his words, the snare of his arms loosened, releasing her. He stepped back and she tried to catch his eyes, but he had already focused on the knapsack slung over her shoulder. "All packed up, I see." 

He tried to smile, but it was a tight, painful attempt that didn't reach his eyes. Again, Rose cursed herself and her impulsive, thoughtless actions. She should've dropped the stupid thing off in the Doctor's lab. Of course it would hurt him.

Rose took hold of the rough sleeve of his jacket, searching for the right thing to say, but then the door swung open and Amy came barging in with Rory on her heels. "See?" said the ginge, turning to her husband. "Told you I smelled chips." She went over and grabbed one, stuffing it in her mouth.

The Doctor sucked in a breath and moved away from Rose. "Oi," he told his companion. "I didn't make those for you."

"'S alright, Doctor," Rose said hurriedly, and she took another, hoping to make him happy. "Can't eat all these myself. Or are you wanting to fatten me up too, like Mum?"

He scrunched up his face at being compared to her mother. Rose's mobile phone rang and she pushed the button and held it to her ear.

"Jackie Tyler's in the building," came a dramatic whisper. "She snarled at me, Rose, _snarled,_ just like a ravenous wolf." Rose smiled; she could hear her dad chuckling in the background. "Pete told her that she had to give us a chance to explain about yesterday but you need to get up here now. He and I can't be expected to fend her off on our own forever."

Rose giggled. "Poor baby. We're coming."

She rang off and shoved the phone back in her jacket pocket. "You hungry?" she asked Amy and Rory. "My Mum's here. With food, though if you knew her that part'd go without saying." 

The two looked at each other, nodding. "We're in," said Amy, stuffing a couple more chips into her mouth. "I'm starving."

"Great." Rose took up the basket and, after covering it with a couple of napkins from the metal dispenser on the table, carried it in one arm. "Let's go."

Rory held the door open for them all but the Doctor had returned to the other side of the kitchen, and was running water into the sink. Rose frowned. "Aren't you coming?" 

He dropped a knife into the suds and glanced over at her. "I should clean up, and then, well... your husband and I were making a bit of progress before you came down. Thought I'd best keep at it. You go ahead."

"Can't it wait an hour? Mum will be hurt if you don't say hello, at least," Rose implored him. She was worried about that, but really, she just wanted him there. Not that she dared tell him that. It was just... he would be leaving again, so soon.

Rose knew she'd won when his shoulders sagged a bit, just like her Doctor's did when he was about to give in. "Well, then. It will never do to upset Jackie." He shut the tap off and wiped his hands on a towel.

"Allons-y?" she asked with a hopeful grin, biting her bottom lip.

His slow, answering smile was so handsome, so _him,_ that it made her heart skip, just a beat or two. 

"Allons-y," he agreed.

 

********

 

Heading a company like Torchwood was a demanding job with demanding hours, although since his second marriage Pete Tyler had done better with balancing work and family. He was lucky, since if he couldn't make it home, his new wife didn't mind that this meant that she and their son often ended up in the small suite of rooms that made up his office on the highest floor of the shining Canary Wharf tower. It was a comfortable, homey space, often littered with toys belonging to six-year-old Tony.

It was a very familiar sight that greeted Rose as she crossed her step-father's office to peer into the attached conference room that had doubled as dining area for her family so many times. Her mother, dressed in classy black trousers and sleeveless blouse, was bustling about, setting the table with dishes from the area's small kitchenette, while simultaneously shrilling at Pete, who had made the mistake of trying to make himself useful.

"No, love, don't open up those containers until we've all sat down, it'll go cold," she told him as she snagged a handful of silverware from an open drawer, then shut it with her hip. "But you can fetch that big bowl of cut fruit from the refrigerator and set it out." She pulled open another drawer and rifled through it. "Now where did I put that nice serving spoon?"

Jackie continued to rummage, her back to the door as Rose entered the room, followed by Amy, Rory, and the wary-faced Doctor. Pete turned away from the small fridge, a plastic-wrap covered glass bowl in his arms, and smiled when he saw them standing there. Rose smiled back, set the basket of chips on the shelf of a bookcase just inside the doorway, and walked in, looking for her own Doctor. She found him halfway across the room, seated in a dining chair he'd pulled a ways back from the large rectangular table, and he and the small blonde-haired boy on his knee were prodding solemnly at a mess of brightly colored wiring in the open back of a small red toy robot.

"His eyes won't light up," he explained, grinning, as soon as he noticed her watching him. "And that just won't do, will it, Tony?"

Tony turned his head to see whom the Doctor had spoken to and his round brown eyes lit up at the sight of his big sister.

"Rose!" he called, sliding off the Doctor's lap and running to her. He threw his arms around her legs.

"Hiya, buddy," she said, picking him up to hug him properly. He tolerated this only briefly before pushing away. Rose sadly set him down. Tony had recently decided that he was now too big to be held.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're just in time," said Jackie, turning away from the kitchenette with the desired serving spoon now in hand. She blinked in surprise when she saw that her daughter wasn't alone. "You've brought friends," she added, recovering admirably and offering the visitors a wide smile. "How lovely. I'm always telling Rose and the Doctor they need to make new friends."

"Mum," said Rose. "Please."

Jackie squinted thoughtfully as she swiftly obtained and added three more plates to the table settings. She beckoned Rose closer. "Do you think it was the best idea, bringing them here?" she asked, into her daughter's ear. "Torchwood? Aren't there rules against it? If they see something alien it might scare them off before they really get to know you. Not that himself over there isn't just as likely to do it with his own weirdness."

Rose sighed. "You'll understand in a minute, Mum. Let me introduce you. This is Rory and Amy Pond- sorry, Williams," she corrected, with an embarrassed laugh as the couple stepped up next to her, lifting their hands in greeting. 

"Lovely to meet you. And who's this, then?" asked Jackie, and Rose could practically read her mind as she surveyed the third stranger with interest. Joyous wife and mother Jacqueline Tyler may be, but that fact had in no way dampened her appreciation for a handsome young face. 

"Um, well Mum, you see..."

As Rose struggled for words she was surprised to find that the new Doctor had come up next to her. He faced her mother, round-shouldered and smiling, his eyes gone soft. "Hello, Jackie. You're looking well. It's been a long time. Although lots longer for me, I think."

Jackie's smile fell, her gaze turned suspicious. She gave him a slow, thorough look over, narrowing in on his decidedly odd attire. Recognition flared in her eyes and the Doctor flinched and sidled back a step or two. Probably expecting a slap, Rose thought. A slap and a lecture. _How dare you abandon my daughter with nary a goodbye..._

"Well, well. I always knew you'd be back."

Rose blinked. No anger colored her mother's tone, just matter-of-fact acceptance with maybe a hint of pity. Apparently Jackie Tyler had _expected_ what everyone else, including the full Time Lord himself, had assumed to be impossible. Rose wasn't sure if she should feel impressed by this or highly annoyed.

The Doctor was just plain baffled. "Really?" 

"Yes," she said, and the pity in her voice went up a notch. "I watched you walk away on that beach. T'was killing you." Before he could formulate some sort of response she turned an accusatory glare on her son-in-law, who was still sitting with Tony. "I thought you said you couldn't change your face anymore."

It spoke volumes as to how far he'd come when Rose's Doctor allowed himself only the smallest sigh before answering. "I can't, Jackie. _He_ can. He's still a full Time Lord."

Jackie raised one eyebrow to show him she was unconvinced and gave her full attention back to the Doctor in tweed. "She's already said no, hasn't she?" Her tone had reverted to soft and compassionate, and she laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sure you tried to tempt her with that big box of yours, all those stars, but it was only ever you she wanted. And she's already got you, plus her family, right here. I'm sorry Doctor, but Rose is happy."

Though looking extremely uncomfortable, the Doctor managed a smile. "I could never be sorry about that, Jackie. But I'm not... asking Rose to come back." His gaze flicked to her momentarily before returning to the older woman. "I heard about the trouble here, the threats on the other Doctor's life. I'm only here to help."

Rose's mother beamed and threw her arms around him in an all-encompassing hug. The Doctor stood frozen in her embrace, and then his hands went up to awkwardly pat her on the back. 

"That's lovely, sweetheart, this other you has been driving everyone bonkers," she declared, pulling back to frame his face with her hands, kissing him soundly before heading over to the sink. Amy and Rory, who'd watched this entire exchange from their places at the table, found this hilarious, and were openly snickering their appreciation. Disgust rapidly shifting to irritation, the Doctor glared at them, and Amy gave him two thumbs up. He huffed and told her to shut up, then sat down on the other side of Rory.

Rose's Doctor, who was immune to being told off about his behavior and therefore entirely unbothered by Jackie's comment, lifted Tony from his lap and ushered him forward to join the others, then dragged his own chair over. He sat down and leaned over the table, then began flipping open the styrofoam containers of food, revealing one to be full of hot battered fish, another of chips, and a long rectangular box of sandwiches on thick bread.

"Oi," said Jackie, her sharp eyes catching him snag a handful of chips while she set a pitcher of water down on the table. "Rude. Tongs are right there. And guests go first, remember?"

She returned to the kitchenette and Rose's Doctor eyed the utensil doubtfully, as if wondering why he would be expected to use a thing that could produce nowhere near the chip-yield as his own long, nimble fingers. Predictably disregarding the admonition, his hand nipped back out to acquire more of the crispy potatoes, and he got a smack on the back of the head for his trouble.

"Ow," he complained, glowering at Jackie. "What'd you do that for?" He reached back and used his fingers to rub at the sore spot, then frowned when he realized they were the greasy, salty, chip-stealing ones. Brows drawing together, he hastily removed the dirty hand from his hair, then stared at it, eyes stormy. One punishment over something as pointless as manners was bad enough, but two was just not to be borne. 

A distraction was in order so Rose rapidly snatched the other basket of chips off the bookcase shelf and plonked them down on the table in front of him. "Look at what the Doctor made for us!" she announced, emphasizing the word 'us' to avoid adding jealousy to his less-than-sunshiny mood. "Chips from back home!"

He wasn't about to be fooled so easily. Rose's Doctor turned a suspicious look onto his other self. "What'd you go and do all this for? Did you think Jackie'd be cooking?"

The triumph of having pulled off a sly double insult might've pulled him out of his funk, but sadly, his timing was off, and the negative reference to his mother-in-law's culinary skills occurred in both her hearing and reach.

_"Ow!"_

With quick reflexes, Rose prevented his still-greasy hand from diving into his hair a second time, ran her own soothing fingers over the spot, then kissed it before sitting beside him. "Be nice, Mum. He's had a stressful couple of days, yeah?" She settled a hand on his knee and felt him relax as she stroked her thumb back and forth.

From across the table, Jackie's gaze traveled between her daughter's husband and his no-longer-identical counterpart. "I suppose it has been," she conceded, and held out a paper-wrapped sandwich to him as peace offering. He eyed it for a second before accepting it, sighing.

Lips curving into a satisfied smile, Jackie now angled herself slightly toward Amy, who was next to her. "So you and your husband are traveling with this other one, are you? I'm glad to see that it's not just young, single women anymore."

Amy grinned. "Oh, I was single when he met me. And quite young. _Very._ And he stole me away to go traveling with him the night before Rory and I were to be married."

"Oi- that wasn't on purpose!" the bow-tied Doctor sputtered. 

Jackie leaned closer to Amy, her eyes alight with interest. "Really? Were you as young as my Rose, then? She was only nineteen, barely out of school, when that alien came along, all big ears and leather and looking to be well over forty. He blew up her job and then stole her away for an entire year. Neither one of them ever called me, not one single time. I thought she was dead."

Rose and both Doctors groaned. "Mum, are you ever gonna let that go? It was an accident."

"I thought it twelve hours," defended the new Doctor.

"No more with the 'leather and big ears'," muttered the one in pinstripes, crossing his arms sulkily.

Amy's smile widened. "I was much, much younger than nineteen," she happily informed her new friend. "Now tell me more about the leather."


	30. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this. The chapter was being quite difficult, and ended up being about twice as long as normal. Pretend it's a double update! :)

Rose was worried about him, he knew. Every few minutes she'd sneak a furtive little glance his way, from where she was still sitting with the Ponds and her mother. The Doctor caught her eye when she did it again and smiled at her, trying to look reassuring- though he made no move to go back over there. She returned the smile; a small knowing grin, before tucking her hair behind one ear and rejoining the conversation.

His smile widened, just a little. Centuries he'd spent fancying himself to be an unreadable mystery and now he was in a room with not one, but (if he included his double) _three_ people who could see right through him. It made him want to run off, especially since he definitely had things to hide. As running wasn't an option, he was standing alone by the wall, hoping they'd forget about him while resisting a constant urge to wring his hands and pace. He hadn't meant to lie to Rose. All this time he'd thought he lost the impulsive gob along with his penchant for pinstripes, but maybe it had always had less to do with a particular incarnation and more to do with Rose being about. Anyway, the lying had happened, and he felt incredibly guilty. 

He also felt, as he suddenly noticed, very, very warm. He unbuttoned his tweed jacket and less than a minute later abandoned it, tossing it off to the side. The walls on this level were just long rows of windows, leaving him fully exposed to the afternoon sun. It was almost too much, even for him and his superior biology, but it did have its upside. Nobody would want to keep him company. Plus the sensation of being simmered alive took at least some of the focus off of the round of guilt that was currently wracking its way through him.

What he really needed was to get back to work, but he wasn't going anywhere without his other self, who was currently being held hostage or something by Pete on the far side of the space, near the door. Blimey, thought the Doctor, eyeing them impatiently and swiping a hand across his forehead, if their little chat didn't end soon he was going to _drag_ the skinny man back down to that lab by a fistful of pinstriped collar.

He'd have done it already, if it wouldn't mean dimming the shine in Rose's eyes. She looked so content, chatting and laughing, while Jackie regaled the Ponds with tales of the littlest Tyler's exploits. He felt guilty for thinking of begrudging her even a moment of it, since who knew what the rest of the day might bring? (Although at the moment his sulky side was tempted to say "nothing," as it seemed like this lunch might carry on _eternally_.)

 His desire for answers was still urgent, but in all honesty, right now he was nearly as anxious to separate his tenacious best friend from Rose's mother. Those two combined made him nervous, and hadn't they'd had enough enjoyment at his expense over the last hour? Jackie's telling Amy all about his Ninth incarnation had been bad enough on its own, and it had gone downhill from there- thanks to his prat of a Tenth incarnation. Picking up on the Doctor's disconcertion, he'd developed a wicked smirk and promptly turned traitor, making it all twice (no, eight times) as bad by randomly tossing out the most embarrassing details he could think of about all of the others.

In the end Amy had nearly impaled him with a long toothpick from one of the sandwiches, so determined was she on using it to pin a stalk of celery to his lapel. She would have done it too, only he'd shoved a chair in her way and yelled 'we know why the Ganglies want _him_ dead!' 

The Doctor cringed a bit, as he turned it over in his mind. Having a bit of fun poked at him was nothing compared with what had come next. He and his counterpart had gone on to explain their belief that a few rogue Time Lords had possibly committed some sort of crime against the Ganglies, and that the human Doctor, bearing the same telepathic signature as the true culprits, was set to take the fall for it. He knew going in that this wasn't the greatest news, but hey, at least it was an answer. He certainly hadn't expected Rose to be near tears by the time they'd finished.

Desperate to reassure her, he'd hurried to tell of their plan to find a similar crime on Earth, a damaged point in time, and use the fact to gain compassion for her husband. _See Rose, everything will be fine, yeah? All under control._ He watched the fear in her eyes disappear entirely, becoming a quiet sort of trust- which was so much worse; he felt like a black-hearted villain. Who did he think he was, promising her one specific conclusion when he selfishly hoped for another outcome all together? When he was hiding an enormous secret- the part played by Rose's future self- strong evidence that this was likely some sort of causality loop, with an unknown, yet pre-determined end. Meaning that he had _control_ of exactly nothing.

As a concerned-looking Rory approached him, the Doctor sighed, mentally adding his name to the list of people he could hide nothing from. "You okay?" he asked, squinting in the sunlight. "Blimey, it's hot over here. Anyway, you looked sort of, oh, I dunno, down, so I just wanted to be sure..." Rory got a good look at the Doctor and did a double take. "Are you _sweating?"_   

"Probably," said the Doctor, looking past Rory and brightening as his double sent a meaningful look his way, briefly making eye contact before inclining his head toward the door. "Good, brilliant," said the Doctor, instantly moving in that direction, "suppose I'll be off, then."

"Oh, that's nice, thanks, great chat."

Then the Doctor froze mid-step, but not because of Rory's wry comment. He didn't even hear him over the sound of Jackie Tyler, as she carelessly stomped out his last fragile hope of escaping this place with at least a _few_ secrets left intact.

"...but enough about my little one! What about you, dear? Think you'll ever stop travelin' and have a family someday?"

Oh no. No no no, please no. The Doctor slowly swung to face Amy, eyes wide, and briefly weighed the risks of clapping a hand over her mouth. She didn't see him.

"Oh, Rory and I don't travel much anymore. We have our real lives on Earth, a house, jobs, the usual. And... actually, we have a daughter."

 _Too late._  

Jackie sat up straight, probably to better digest this juicy tidbit. "How lovely! From the looks of you she can't be much older than my Tony. Do her grandparents care for her when you do travel?"

There Amy hesitated but the Doctor totally missed his chance to intrude, suddenly stuck on the half terrifying, half hilarious mental image of Rory's father Brian attempting a one-on-one weekend with his big-haired, gun-toting granddaughter.

"No, she-"

Semi-panicked, the Doctor started coughing violently, like he'd been suddenly stricken with the Hypraxian flu. Startled, Amy lifted her gaze and studied him, as did Jackie, swiveling round on her chair.

"You okay there, Doctor?" Amy asked, all honeyed concern, but oh, he didn't like the look in her eye. "Try a sip of water, that ought to help. Or is it that you'd rather I not talk about River?"

He glowered, a silent _shut up_ with his eyes.

"River?" piped up the Other's voice from across the room, and when the Doctor twisted back to look at him he could practically see the rapid-fire connections being made, sparking behind his eyes. "River Song?"

Amy's smirk faded and she stared at him. "Yes... you know her?"

Rose leaned forward in her chair to gape at her husband. "Isn't that the name of the woman you met in the Library? The one who knew..."

"Yes," he replied, his eyes never leaving Amy's. "How could she possibly be your daughter?"

"How could you possibly _know_ my daughter?"

He shrugged. "I don't, not really. Only met her once. She, ah, she knew me far better than I knew her. And it was before the meta-crisis."

He turned to the Doctor, his eyes full of questions. The Doctor stubbornly crossed his arms and looked at Rose, having felt her eyes upon him also. She had a funny look on her face, lips pinched, a line deep between her drawn eyebrows. It was a familiar look, and he was doing his best to decipher it when she turned away, crossing her arms, and- oh ho, it couldn't be. It _was._ She was jealous.The Doctor bit down on the inside of one cheek to keep a smile from forming. Perhaps this topic wasn't so bad after all.

"I don't get it at all," said Jackie to her son-in-law, entirely confused. "You once met Amy's child but never met Amy?"

"Well, she was far from a child. Early forties'd be my guess."

Jackie's tone turned condescending. "Oh, don't be stupid. Amy can't possibly have a child in her forties."

Amy got out of her chair and put her hands on her hips. "River's younger than she looks," she announced to the room, "but she is an adult. We grew up together. I know that sounds messed up but it's easy to explain, really." She looked at the human Doctor. "It's for the same reason her timeline runs opposite yours. She's-"

"Oi," interrupted the Doctor, stepping between them and waving his hands, "this isn't fair! You can't just _tell_ him all this! I waited years to find out; years and years of nothing but 'spoilers' upon 'spoilers'!"

When he made the terrible error of pausing for breath Amy continued.

"...she's part Time Lord. She's got Time Lord DNA."

Four heads slowly swiveled towards the Doctor. While Pete merely looked surprised, Jackie was disgusted. Rose had paled. And Pinstripes glared at him, utterly appalled. 

The Doctor frowned, absorbing their unexpected reactions, and then it registered. "Blimey, Amy, you made them think that- she's not _my_ daughter!" 

No one looked the slightest bit convinced. 

He raked a hand through his hair. "Rory," he pleaded, turning to his friend, "please-"

Rory, who was pretending to be as shocked as the others, grinned and took pity on him. "Okay, okay," he said, and cleared his throat. "Just so we're clear, everyone, River is _my_ daughter. Her DNA was altered because she was conceived on the TARDIS- which, in hindsight, probably wasn't the best place for Amy and I to spend our wedding night. She has some Time Lord traits but she's fully human."

The human Doctor was astonished. "That can happen? Blimey, it's a good thing I didn't travel with married couples very often." He leveled a long, curious look at the Doctor. "Speaking of married-"

The Doctor shook his head. "It's not what you think. So can we please go back to your lab now? We have much more important things to accomplish. Remember? Like saving your life? There's still a broken fixed point needing discovering."

Other Him nodded tersely. "Suppose so."

"Any way I can help?" Pete asked.

The Doctor gave him an indulgent smile. "Thanks for the offer, but no. The sort of time divergence stemming from an adulterated set point would have very distinctive tells, easily recognizable for a Time Lord, but it would take me decades to list them all for you. Plus, you've never lived in the other universe, so you're not very likely to recognize when something that happened here didn't happen there, and vice versa."

"He gets it, Doctor," Amy chimed in as she wandered over to the window, "we all do, so stop trying to sound important. You're looking for something big that changed history; a 'sudden climactic event.' Or a _non_ -event," she added suddenly, straightening up with the fingertips of her right hand against the glass, drawing their attention. "Right? It could also be something that should have happened, but didn't. Like whatever caused this." She gestured vaguely.

Both Doctors were at her side in a flash, the three of them staring out the window together. "I don't see anything," said Pinstripes, his nose almost touching the glass.

"Not there. _There,_ " she said, pointing almost straight out, and it took the Doctor a moment to latch on to her meaning; how was he already used to this world and its overly cluttered-up sky? "Think maybe the Hindenburg didn't crash?"

 

********

 

"No cigar," announced the Doctor, emerging empty-handed from his lab's storage closet.

"Need a hand?" asked his father-in-law, but it was more of a probe, a question, than an offer of help. The Doctor shook his head, heading directly to search the metal cabinets over the utility sink on the other side of the room. Despite his insistence that this necessary little project would take only a few minutes, most of the group, which now included Pete, had trailed him down here anyway. At least Jackie had gone, off to take Tony to a friend's house. And Jake hadn't been seen for hours.

He fished around in the top left cabinet, but the small box full of old earbuds wasn't in there either. He hadn't seen or thought of it since the day of his fateful encounter with the Ganglies, and now he couldn't for the life of him remember where he'd stashed it. Probably somewhere obvious, he thought to himself as he yanked open the next cupboard door. He snorted. Obvious. Just like the zeppelins. Of course it would be the zeppelins; hideous, sky polluting things that they were, doing their best to hide the stars away from him. Not that he wanted a tragedy to have prevented their existence, but... zeppelins. Everywhere.

That was a tragedy in and of itself.

He stole a quick glance around the room before crouching to search the under cabinets. Pete was leaned forward over one of the lab tables, chin in hand, watching him, while Amy and Rory must have given up on this being 'quick' and were slumped on the sofa, looking bored. Rose was reclining against the TARDIS, shoulder to shoulder with the full Time Lord, looking rather excited about the prospect of a little adventure. All together, they made for a very familiar picture. The Doctor, the TARDIS, and Rose Tyler. _Just as it should..._ his stomach clenched and he stifled the thought before he finished it, quickly turning away.

"Stupid Aerospace Museum," he overheard her say to the new Doctor. "If they didn't have the actual Hindenburg on display then we'd _have_ to take the TARDIS to go and find out if somebody messed with it. Maybe we could do that anyway, just spy on 'em or something? It'd be so much more fun. Don't you want to take me time-travel-"

 _Bang!_ went the underside of the countertop, as it met with his head in a sharp, nasty collision. A pained yelp escaped him and he put a hand to his scalp, wincing.

Rose's voice floated over. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, ducking back down to resume his search without looking at her. He didn't want to see his other self, trying his best not to look smug. _Why yes, Rose, of course I'd love to take you time traveling. In fact, as soon as we finish going through the pointless motions needed to complete this mission, you and I can do just that..._

"Sorry, but this way is better," the older Doctor continued. "Much safer."

"Not with the Ganglies around it's not," said Rose. "Besides, if the Time Lords damaged a fixed point, isn't it your job to, I dunno, go back and stop them from doin' it?"

"Can't. Imagine a broken bone that's healed, but a bit crooked."

"Okay..."

"Well, it's nothing like that, but if it helps, pretend that it is. Point is, it would be dangerous to re-break it to try and set things right at this point. Best to just leave it be."

"Oh... does that mean that we can't help the Ganglies either?" 

"I wish we could, but no. Think about it, Rose. If nothing ever happens to them, they would never come after the human me, therefore I would have never come here to help in the first place. It's impossible."

"A paradox."

"Yeah."

"Whatcha looking for?" came Amy's voice from somewhere above the Doctor. As he rummaged he could see her partially healed ankle out of the corner of his eye. Other than that it was hard to tell she'd ever been injured; it certainly wasn't slowing her down much. A compound fracture probably wouldn't have either, he thought, a small smile stealing on to his face in spite of his dark mood.

"You'll see, once I find it." He roughly shoved aside a clinking container of glass jars and beakers, and smiled when he spotted the familiar shoebox hiding behind it. "Ha! Knew this was around here somewhere!" proclaimed the Doctor, grasping it by one side and popping back up with feigned enthusiasm. The box rattled as he tossed it down on the countertop next to the sink, instantly catching Pete's attention. The Doctor pulled a face, dragging a hand over the back of his neck when the man purposefully headed his way. This wasn't going to go over so well.

"What in the world would possess you to keep an entire box of earbuds in your lab?" Pete asked, voice stern, picking one up and gingerly holding it out in two fingers as if it were some kind of bloodthirsty insect.

"Why not? They aren't active anymore," said the Doctor, avoiding eye contact by digging around in the box and pretending to look for the best two. 

"You know why. _This_ is what you intend to use to keep those aliens from following you and him to the museum? Do you want to start a riot?"

"It'll be fine, Pete, I'll put a perception filter on it. But first, I need to make a few other more important modifications." Pete frowned, a steely look in his eye that the Doctor knew well. Impatient, he looked his father-in-law straight in the eyes and tried not to seem testy as he gestured for him to step aside. 

"Requires a fair bit of concentration, so do you mind?" Pete held his gaze and then, with a resigned shake of his head, retreated to keep an eye on him from the other side of the room. With a slow exhale, the Doctor rolled his shoulders to relieve some tension, then pulled open a drawer and began taking out a few other bits he needed. He was grateful that no one aside from the other Doctor knew he'd done this before with one of the Lumic-era relics. The last earbud had somehow disappeared without a trace after the attack (he had his theories), but that little event was not something he cared to think about right now. Or ever again.

Truth was, as the day progressed he grew more certain that the performance was about to be repeated quite soon, but without nearly as cheerful an outcome. Well, it might be cheerful for one person- the one who stood next to his Rose, with that stupid bow-tie and too-short trousers. He was also the youngest looking regeneration yet, which really kind of kind of irked him, but still. It was better than if he'd showed up as a grey old man. That would be harder for Rose to get used to. _Stop it._ Throat swelling, the Doctor swallowed hard to relieve some of the pressure as the despair he'd been fighting off for two days crawled up again, threatening to choke him. It almost felt good to just let it, just for a moment. Would she grieve for him alone? Or would she seek comfort, finding it in the other- _no_. He couldn't start thinking like that now. He couldn't let himself just give up.

"You okay?" His eyes cut over to Amy, surprised to find her still beside him after he'd shooed Pete off.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he said curtly, scooping up the two earbuds he'd selected and walking away to set them on a work table. After switching on a lamp, he laid the first one down in the circle of light and popped its back open with a zap from his screwdriver. He picked it up and carefully removed the small computer chip from its inners.

"My Doctor is better at that than you are." Amy was beside him again.

"At converting tiny receivers into portable telepathic disruptors? I doubt it," he said, sliding his glasses on. He held the chip up and studied it for a second, tongue pressed to the back of his top teeth.

"No, at lying." He tensed a bit but was otherwise able to ignore her. He placed the microchip flat in his left palm, and took his sonic to it. "Funny," Amy went on, "because I just met you, but you're him, so in a way I've known you forever. You're over here, all busy and serious, acting like a completely normal human being, and that's what he does when he's really, properly scared. And it can't be about these aliens, 'cos that's nothing. Saw him reboot the universe once."

He paused over his work, gaze sliding sideways to flick over her face. "He did what?"

"It's all about Rose, isn't it?" she continued in a low voice, as if he hadn't spoken. "You're afraid of losing her. Just as afraid as he is."

He turned his attention back to the chip in his palm. "Amy, I need to finish this."

She turned so she was propped with her back against the table, facing him. "She won't go with him, you know. And he knows it too, but I think a part of him is still hoping. I need to know something, Doctor, and since he won't say, I figure you're the best one to ask. Is he gonna be okay?"

Shoulders slumping, the Doctor closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Amy. But I just don't know. I don't know what's going to happen."

Amy looked highly dissatisfied but he was done talking about this. Done _thinking_ about it. It was time to just _do._ "Oi, Chin-boy," he yelled, before she could speak again. "There's another earbud that needs converting over here. We haven't got all afternoon."

 

********

 

"This doesn't look too promising," said Rory, as they pulled into the National Museum of Aviation's nearly abandoned car park. "They must be closed already?"

"Good," said the Doctor, finding another reason to be happy that Jake had showed up at the last minute, and had helped convince his father-in-law to stay behind. No lecture on breaking and entering. 

"Right," said Rory, sounding irritated as Rose smoothly parked the black unmarked Jeep near one of the very few vehicles sitting outside one of the sprawling brick building's service entrances. "Because of course none of you lot has any problem with breaking in."

"Shut up, Rory," said Amy. "We're finally doing something fun. Don't need you to ruin it."

Both Time Lords exited the vehicle before the others and headed straight for the nearest way in, respective screwdrivers in their hands. The Doctor didn't like to say that his last few steps were taken in a full-out run, but even if they were, the important thing was that he got there first (part-human or no, his incarnation had always been especially fleet of foot) by a full five seconds. Quickly sonicking the lock, he pushed in the scratched grey utility door and held it open with his back, welcoming the rest of the group in with a sunny smile.

If his special talent was running, Tweedy's was chin-jutting. "No need to be so childish. You're lucky you didn't set off an alarm, just rushing in like that-"

"Don't start," said Rose, pushing in between and then past both of them. They were in a long, dimly lit corridor dotted with plain, unlabeled doors, likely a maintenance area. Aside from their five there wasn't a soul in sight, or even a sound other than the low buzz of fluorescent security lights. Rose reached the end of the hallway first, her Torchwood-trained footsteps quiet and quick, and cautiously opened the exit door. After a brief survey she turned back and beckoned the others to follow.

"All clear," she said, her hushed words carrying easily. "Let's go."

The corridor opened directly into an exhibit; a chronicle of man's first achievements in space travel. It was a large, high-ceilinged room with three arched exits leading off to different parts of the museum. Hanging prominently on the wall near each exit was a large, colorful visitor's map. Rory rushed to scan over one immediately.

"Good job, the Hindenburg exhibit is right next door," he said, smiling over his shoulder at Rose, and gesturing to the arch leading out to the left. "How'd you manage that?"

"Simple," said Rose, with a teasing smirk for each of the two Doctors, who'd come up beside her. "Don't let the Doctor drive."

"Hurtful, Rose Tyler," chuckled Eleven, and then whipped his head around when she disappeared with a stifled shriek, snatched backwards by her husband.

"Mean," he added into her ear, brushing its shell with his lips.

"Okay, settle down, we can all have a good flirt later," the full Time Lord groused, and stalked off through the archway. The Doctor took Rose's hand and they followed, entering an enormous atrium. Sunshine poured in, flooding the area with natural light. It glinted and sparked off the world-famous, silvery colored zeppelin- the obvious showpiece, fully inflated and massive and impossible to miss.

"Blimey," said Rory, halting in place when he got his first good look. "I didn't realize how huge those things were."

"And ugly," added Amy.

"I know," agreed the Doctor darkly.

"Alright team," said Eleven, round-shouldered and clasping his hands, suddenly business-like as he faced each of them in turn. "Ponds, you keep an eye out for any security guards that might come wandering in. I'll check over the zeppelin's surface structure, while you," he pointed at the Doctor, "take the cockpit; you're probably plenty familiar with the things by now. Remember, we're looking for anything alien or blatantly out-of-era."

"Oh, are we now?" said the Doctor, pitching his voice extra high, just to match his level of sarcasm. "And here I thought this was just a little sight-see. You really haven't changed at all, have you? Always thinking you know everything when you really, really don't. I'm pretty sure I have no more zeppelin cockpit experience than you do, since you didn't ask. So why don't _you_ check inside and I'll examine the exterior?"

The older Doctor raised one disbelieving brow. "You live in a world that's absolutely chock-full of zeppelins and you mean to tell me you've never ridden in one?"

Rose bounced up and down on her toes, growing impatient. "He's scared of them," she said.

The Doctor stared at her, feeling betrayed. "That's not- I'm not _scared,_ I just really, really don't like them," he retorted, exasperatedly throwing his hands out. "They're obnoxious and inefficient and slow, and- and it's a matter of principle!"

His other self smirked and, without another word, strolled away toward the cockpit, pushing his earbud more firmly into his ear. Amy abandoned her assignment the instant she knew he couldn't see her anymore, beelining in after him. With an impassive expression Rory watched her go, then shrugged and readjusted his position in the room, dutifully doing his best, alone, to keep an eye on both entrances to the atrium. Grinning to himself, the Doctor pulled out his sonic and went around to the side of the zeppelin, staring up at its bulbous grey side curving high above him, draped over with several mooring lines.

"What's with you?" Rose asked, from her position beside him. "I don't get it. He's helping us to get our lives back, love; can't you try to be nice?"

He ran the sonic's beam over one of the ropes, then held the tool before his eyes, to check the chemical composition. "I'm sorry."

"Is it jealousy? 'Cos that's just crazy."

He wanted to let that go, he really, really did. It wasn't her fault that she had _no idea_ what was really going on here, and that yes, jealousy was practically eating him alive, jealousy and fear. The Doctor tore his eyes from the screwdriver's readings to look at his wife. "Is it? Is it really? He's still in love with you, Rose. And you love him, and that's fine, I get it, because he's me. _Only better,"_ he mumbled under his breath. "So why wouldn't you?"

Her jaw tightened and he knew she'd heard every word. "Don't-"

"He's still hoping, you know. He can't help it. So has he asked you to stay yet? Because if he hasn't, he will."

Her silence gave him his answer, and he looked away and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Maybe you should." He cringed as he heard himself say it. Stupid gob. Even he hadn't seen that one coming.

Breath hitching, his wife shoved angrily at his upper arm. "How can you even _say_ such a thing?"

"I'm sorry, but what if- what if his coming was meant to be, Rose? You were meant for _better_ than this. Meant for better than a mid-city flat, and, and a five day a week job, and a boss breathing down your neck over some stupid paperwork." He paused, rolling his head back to stare up at the zeppelin. "Meant for better than anything I can give you."

Rose's voice was tight and she moved away from him. "And you're not meant for better? I _want_ this, our life together, right here. I want _you."_

 _"He is me,"_ he thought about saying, but didn't dare. For one thing, she might very well kill him, right here next to the bloody Hindenburg. And the other possible outcome was worse. The full Time Lord had used those very words years ago, to get her to stay. It had worked, too. He wasn't brave enough to test it, see if it might work again. Anyway, it was far more likely that this time she wouldn't get any kind of a choice, and neither would he. 

"Rose," he said, going over to her, "I want you too, more than anything. But love, I've lived a long time; long enough to know that the universe is not fair. It's not kind. Even if you want something so, so badly, and do your best to hold on to it... sometimes you still lose."

She crossed her arms over her chest and studied him, fear and anger in her eyes. "What are you trying to say, Doctor?"

His lids slipped shut, and when he lifted them again he didn't try to hide his sorrow. "I need you to promise me something. If something happens, if it turns out that neither of us gets what we want... go with him."

"No. Stop it."

"Rose. Please. This whole thing, it just scares me, alright? And I can't think straight, I can't be at my best, until I know-"

She stared at him for a minute, then gave one hard, quick nod. "But don't you dare take that as permission to just give up."

"Never dream of it," he breathed, and, after a bit of hesitation, stepped close and took her in his arms. He exhaled in relief when she hugged him back, tight. They held on to each other for a minute and then he pulled back, keeping one arm around her. He tugged her into his side, then used his free hand to scan the exterior of the airship with his screwdriver. He held it up, stiffening when he got his first good look at the results. Rose turned her head, tilting her chin to look up at him curiously, and he beamed down, brushing her nose with his own.

He turned his face in the direction of the cockpit. "Got 'em!" the Doctor crowed, his jubilant exclamation echoing through the cavernous room, and seconds later Amy's head poked out, followed by the Time Lord's.

"Really?" said the Doctor in tweed, almost tripping over Amy in his haste to climb down. "What did you find?"

"Polyphenolsulphone! Try saying that three times fast," he joked.

"No thanks. What does that even mean?" asked Rory, joining them.

"Oh, it's just a chemical compound, a common plastic coating. The original Hindenburg, well, not the original, but the one from our universe, had its exterior coated with a cellulose nitrate based lacquer to make the cotton skin underneath airtight. It was a frequently used compound at the time, but also highly flammable." He was moving now, increasingly animated. "It was raining the day it all happened, and according to one theory, one of the wet mooring lines touched the ground by accident and a spark ran up, and just like that, _wham,"_ he drew his fisted hands apart and threw them outward, "the zeppelin became a giant fireball. But this Hindenburg, the one here in front of us, isn't lacquered with cellulose nitrate, but Polyphenolsulphone, which is nearly inflammable, _but!_ won't be manufactured until at least the early twenty-first century." 

Abandoning the others, he swung up on one of the airship's mooring lines, and hand over fist, climbed up, farther and farther, until he was within touching distance of the ship's exterior layer. He tapped it with a finger, nodded, leaned in and sniffed, then gave it a swipe with his tongue for good measure. "Nope," he said, smacking his lips, "the technology for this coating didn't belong in the 1930's. Somebody gave it to the zeppelin makers. Three guesses as to who it might be," he added, with a huge grin down at wife, which she mirrored back at him.

"So they were trying to do something good?" Amy's voice sounded small and far away.

"Looks like it," allowed the new Doctor, "but it was still wrong. This was probably the only way their consciences allowed them to do it at all."

"But we've got our proof?" called Rose from below.

"Oh yes!" replied the Doctor. "The zeppelin scourge of the twenty-first century was most certainly due to meddling Time Lords, and for once, I am thrilled to say that I was not one of them." He was still dangling high, clutching tight to the rope with two hands. He carefully climbed up a ways farther, rotated his foot in the mooring line for support, then let go one hand and removed his sonic from his inner coat pocket.

"What in the world are you doing up there?" came the befuddled voice of the bow-tied Doctor.

"Getting my proof," he replied, pointing the tip of the sonic close to zeppelin's outer layer. 

"But why- you can't just cut a _chunk_ from that!"

The Doctor paused in his preparations and looked down at him. "Oh, relax, it's not like this thing is full of hydrogen gas! It's in a _museum_ ; they don't fly it around or anything. It may look like it's inflated but it's got a metal framework; it's set up for display purposes. I'm only taking a tiny piece, and if I cut it from way up here nobody'll even notice the hole."

"Okay, that's fine, but I still don't see why-"

Ignoring him, the Doctor took his sonic and with a swift, precise wrist rotation, traced a small circle in the craft's skin, no more than a couple of inches in diameter. After tucking the sonic away, the Doctor stretched his hand back out to remove the sample piece, mouth tugging down as he felt the smallest whisper of air seeping from around its edges and tickling his fingertips. He dug his nail in, prying loose the cut section, and as the little circle came free the whisper of air became a breath which became a rushing stiff breeze that blew back his fringe. 

"What's that sound, Doctor?" called Rose, as he hastily unhooked his foot from the line and slid down as fast as he could and not leave rope-burns in his palms. 

"Erm. Wellllll, perhaps I was a bit wrong about about it only 'looking' like it was inflated," he admitted, his words tripping out, fast and panicked. He let go of the rope and dropped the last few meters, landing feet first on the floor with a hollow _thud_. The others stared at him, eyes wide, and at the sight of their shocked faces hilarity began to set in, and the Doctor couldn't prevent a wide, wild grin as he grabbed his wife by the hand. 

"Run!"

********

By the time they got back to Torchwood, they'd only just managed to stop laughing about it. 

"Don't look at me," Amy told Rose, wiping her eyes. "You'll start me off again, and I should really be feeling sorry for the poor person who comes in and has to deal with _that_ first thing Monday morning."

"I know," said Rose, attempting to bite back a grin and failing miserably. "I can't stop picturing it either."

"Oh, it's not that bad," defended the human Doctor, for the hundredth time. "I keep telling you, it was only one section, it's not like the whole thing will go flat-"

"Anyway, if I wasn't convinced that this one was the Doctor before, I certainly am now," Amy interrupted, poking said Doctor playfully in the chest. 

"Gee, thanks," he said dryly. "Glad to see how my unwavering ability to bollocks things up has finally persuaded you."

"Oi, speak for your own incarnation," said the other Doctor, but his heart wasn't really in it. 

Rose went over to him, looking firmly into his eyes. "I need to run off for a few minutes and fill Dad in on what we've found, so remember your promise. No leaving again without a proper goodbye. And that will be later, because tonight we celebrate, yeah? Jake will have given the Ganglies good reason to leave by then, and this whole nightmare will be really, truly over. And we couldn't have done it without you," she said, her smile wide, her hand on his arm, but not, the Doctor noticed, the hug for his counterpart as she normally would've done. What was that all about?

She left the lab, and the Ponds did too, heading into the TARDIS to clean up and change. At long last, the two Doctors were alone once more.

"Okay, start talking," said Eleven, rounding on him. "I have so many questions right now that I honestly have no idea where to even begin. And here I thought _I_ was a liar. What's with you, feeding Rose a story about that stupid snip of canvas being _proof_ and then sending Jake off with it on some wild goose chase? Even if he was somehow able to find the telepaths they'd have no idea what he was on about, waving that thing around and declaring your innocence. So why do all that when we had what we really needed, the second you knew for a certainty just what the Time Lords had done?"

He put both hands into his hair, pulling at the spiky strands as if he could yank out the answers. "What exactly did you expect? It's not like I can just tell Rose 'I'm sorry, love, but they don't understand the concept of explanations- or physical evidence, for that matter. That those sorts of things are meaningless to such a high-level telepath, and the only proof of any value to them at all is the unforgeable truth. The only way to give them this is directly from my mind, but hey, it's guaranteed to work. _If_ we can only get them to look without killing me first. But that's a risk I have to take."

"Who says you have to do it alone? I'm here. I'm also telepathic. If we do it together they can't overcome the both of us."

"Yeah, no. One big problem. You're a full Time Lord, remember? That makes you one of _them_ , one of the bad ones. But me, I'm part human, I live here, I'm the only one who has even half a chance of convincing them that I'm nothing but an innocent bystander. If they even _see_ you, sense you, they'll think we're co-conspirators. You can't be there at all." 

He laughed harshly, one hand still in his hair as he paced. "It's funny, how suddenly everything becomes so clear. I've just realized that it doesn't really matter, whether I live or die. It will be one lie too many. She's going to leave me."

"Well, that's a relief," said the older Doctor, dropping into a chair with a loud exhale. He fiddled with his bow-tie. "I was getting quite tired of wondering how all of this might turn out. So why don't you get on with it then, and Rose and I will be on our way in the TARDIS. Seeing as we have a paradox to prevent and all. I'm sure she can help me guess at the stops."

He glared, muscle working in his jaw. "You're not funny."

"And you're not paying attention." As the full Time Lord sat up straight, holding his gaze with unwavering, deep-set eyes, for the first time the Doctor could see how many more years had passed for him, how ancient he'd become, what he'd kept hidden beneath that overly-youthful visage. This was his elder, a person with centuries of added experience, and his indignation wavered as he suddenly felt like a child reproved. "The thing you truly need to _realize_ is that this isn't all about _you._ Your wife has been time-traveling. Rose is already involved in how this whole thing plays out, and she doesn't even know it. And that is the extent of what _I_ know. We are running the risk of a potential paradox; I'm not about to let you go anywhere. So," he added, leaning back and crossing his arms, "you might as well sit your sorry self down, and tell me _exactly_ what's been going on with Rose."


	31. Chapter 30

_".....you might as well sit your sorry self down, and tell me exactly what's been going on with Rose."_

 

********

 

It was a good thing, the Doctor thought, that his older self had wound up his little lecture with a rather condescending, and very irritating, pat to the seat of the second desk chair. Otherwise, who knew how he might've reacted? Probably be glued to that chair right about now, obediently spilling his guts. 

So he was still on his feet- a small victory- but aside from that, the only objection he'd managed to muster up was a quiet "Not here." 

Which wasn't much of one, especially when considering that he hadn't intended to talk about "what's been going on with Rose" at all.

Ever. 

Because talking about it means making it real.

And it shouldn't be real. Rose shouldn't be time traveling, because _he_ couldn't take her. Not anymore. She shouldn't have been able to save his life. 

There he went again, with the useless, circular thinking. She _had_ saved his life, which meant she would do, and he didn't have much say over any of it. It was a right mess, deep and suffocating, yet... he had help. Much as he hated to admit it, this fresh-faced, absurdly dressed, older incarnation of himself was wiser than he'd initially given him credit for, and was definitely more experienced than he was. And right now, the temptation to simply hand him the reins was nearly irresistible. Even though he, of all people, should know that the man's current, almost swaggering confidence might be no more than a put on, a practiced disguise. 

Well, what did it matter if it was? He was nearly out of time. If this other Time Lord thought it might help, somehow, he'd tell him anything he wanted to know. He'd take his hope any way he could get it.

From under his swoop of thick brown hair, the gaze of the older Doctor panned to the TARDIS, then back up at him. "Alright," he agreed, with a slow nod, "best not to chance being interrupted. Where to then?"

"Let's walk." 

Briskly turning, he left the room, then took a right, heading away from the lifts. The Other was at his elbow, staring straight ahead. Neither of them said anything. As they walked, the Doctor squinted a little, as he always did in this corridor, taking in the long stretch of white, uninterrupted wall, made all the harsher by the overhead florescent lighting. It made his eyes hurt. Unlike the posher upper levels, these were adorned with nothing but the occasional mar or scrape or scuff, each as well known to him as the freckles dotting the back of his own hand. They passed a new and particularly bad one; a long, dirty scar indenting the drywall, and he smiled wryly, remembering the pleasant tingle of frustration finding release when he'd created it.

"I hate this place," he said aloud. "Torchwood. Do you have any idea how many hours I've passed in here? It's like being imprisoned but worse somehow, since it's for my own bloody safety. It's like being a kept animal, like a.. a dog in a yard."

The man in the bow-tie shot him a look that was anything but sympathetic. "And if I hadn't shown up? What then? Would you have eventually hated it enough to risk it all? Again?"

"Look, if this is you trying to play the "who's more worthy of Rose" game, you may as well give up now. First of all, it's pointless, because I _am_ about to run off again. Second, I don't think it matters what either of us do, because we aren't actually the ones in charge. Haven't been, since this body was made," he added, with a vague gesture, up and down, to himself. "Well, not this body exactly; the first one that looked just like it. You know what I mean."

"You think this is Bad Wolf?" asked the other Doctor, taking a firm enough hold of his elbow to pause their journey. He sounded slightly surprised but his eyes said otherwise.

Extricating his arm from the other man's grasp, the Doctor strode on. "I'd say she's written all over it."

He heard a gasp and cut his eyes over to find his double had frozen in place, and was staring at him in open-mouthed shock. "Literally?" 

He pressed his lips together, trying to fight off a smile. "No. Not literally."

He heard a huff of irritation as the Time Lord appeared at his side again. "Sorry, but it's been awhile for me. Must have forgotten how Bad Wolf is always good for a bit of a _laugh._ "

His lips curled up further and he didn't apologize as they reached the end of the passage. The Doctor hauled open a door, a heavy metal thing which hid a windowless stairwell, a large number 2 on its dull, grey-painted wall. Entering the small landing, he immediately took the stairs heading upward. "I set them all to run on a loop in here, long time ago," he told Eleven, who, beside him, seemed to be eyeing one of the wall-mounted security cameras. "Security's never even noticed, as far as I know."

But his floppy-haired counterpart wasn't thinking about the cameras. "But it does have the looks of her handiwork, doesn't it," he said, out of the blue, as they continued to climb. "Bad Wolf. I've been thinking this over for hours now. Logically, and all that. We both know how she went to great lengths- the sword fight, Jack finding my old hand, getting shot by the Dalek- all of it, just to make sure of your creation. I know you have your worries; but logically- if Rose was meant to be with me in the end, then why were you brought into existence in the first place? Doesn't it make far more sense to think that I was brought back into your lives only to make sure things with you two continue as she started them?"

The Doctor smiled a little. Rose herself had said much the same thing, back when she'd still been willing to discuss this subject. _"I know what you're afraid of, love, but you're wrong. It was always meant to be; you and me, here together. So why would I be travelin' without you?"_ Oh, how he'd wanted to believe that, and had consoled himself with it, much the same way that an alcoholic consoles himself with a few stiff drinks. He'd been doing it for months now, instead of facing facts and searching for solutions. What a fool he was.

"Somehow you forget that I wasn't created only for Rose," he finally replied, watching his own feet as he climbed the stairs, up and up. "The Doctor-Donna and I, we were created to save the multi-verse. Whatever my own personal feelings might be, that part was likely more important. And once it was over Donna...well, she _ceased_ existing, at least in that form- so why should I still be here? It wasn't as if you intended to ever leave Rose again. Ever. I think that I'm the collateral damage. A detour. Her way back to you- just the long way round."

After a beat or two he took off, skipping up the rest of the stairs two at a time, and left his other self in his dust to puzzle that over. He reached the level marked "4", and a quick buzz from his blue-tipped sonic had its door unlocked with a metallic thunk, just as the Other caught up to him. The Doctor gave the same treatment to one of the doors in a corridor that was as identically empty as the one two floors down, and soon the Time Lords found themselves in a massive space, open and echoing, divided up only by tall rows of shelving. 

Eleven let out a low whistle.

"The archives," explained the Doctor. "Artifacts from over a thousand alien cultures, relegated to cardboard boxes and alphabetic labeling. According to intended purpose, of course."

"Of course," echoed the Other, wandering forward into one of the nearest aisles. He turned, examining the shelves just in front of him, and frowned. "Weaponry?" he said, his tone a mix of disbelief and outrage. "What sort of idiot stores alien weaponry in a cardboard box?" Hastily removing the top, he stuck his hand in and pulled out an elongated metal object with a joystick-like handle, complete with red button at its end. 

He turned it over, bemused, then looked up at the Doctor, a slow grin taking over his mouth. "It's a D'klakian slide projector."

"Oh, is it now? My mistake."

"Quite right."

While the Other replaced the box on the shelf, the Doctor went over to one of the sorting tables and grabbed a couple of metal folding chairs. After arranging them together and sitting on one, he kicked his legs out and shoved a hand into his right trouser pocket, which, unlike his jacket, was not at all bigger on the inside. His counterpart came over, watching him curiously as he eventually fished out two squares of folded-up paper. Tossing one to the waiting man, he shoved the other back into his pocket.

"What's this?" asked Chinny, unfolding it as he settled himself onto the neighboring chair. 

"Coordinates. I'm not so taken up with my own impending demise that I've forgotten how to Time Lord; I don't go around just _ignoring paradoxes_ or whatever you've been implying. I never intended to swan off without telling you where Rose needs to be, and when."

The full Time Lord looked up from the paper. "But these are just location coordinates, dates. Times. You've only labeled one of them, the date of the attack. The rest of these don't mean anything to me."

"So? Do you need more than that?"

"Technically?" he said, brow crinkling. "That depends. Look, I'm just trying to understand, to see if any of this might help. See it from my side. There are more than a dozen notations here. So does that mean that the rest of your encounters with Rose were just... just chance or something? She didn't do anything, say anything, help you with something important?"

"Not that I know of."

"But that... that doesn't make sense. Why would she do that? Because it wasn't only your timeline she was re-entering, it was her own as well. Rose _knows_ how dangerous that is, just as well as we do. Why would she take such a risk for no good reason?" Elbows on knees, the bow-tied Doctor lowered his chin to his hands, thinking hard for a minute. "Okay, aside from the day of the attack, are you sure it was a future her? Maybe... maybe she's been spying on you or something? Maybe she thinks you've been cheating on her."

The Doctor turned a hard look on him. "I find that offensive on so many levels. Rose isn't _paranoid,_ she would never stoop to something like that. And you, of all people, should know that I would never give her even the slightest reason to think such a thing."

"Okay, okay, you're right," said the older Doctor, hands fluttering contritely. "Sorry." 

He waved a hand. "It's alright. I... I wondered myself what I was seeing, sometimes. A trick of the eyes, my imagination." He gestured toward the note in the other man's hand. "A good half of those sightings occurred when Rose was actually with me, so for a long time I did dismiss it; oh look, there's a particularly talented paparazzo who just happens to bear a striking resemblance to my wife." He exhaled, long and drawn out, through his nose. "If only." 

"So Rose has seen her too?"

"Well. She likes the paparazzo story. Once I knew, for a certainty, otherwise, I tried..." He shook his head. "It scares her. Even back when I was still insisting that we must've been doing the Auld Lang Syne tour in our brand-new TARDIS."

"But she didn't believe you. Because it was always just her. Never you."

"Yeah. So eventually, I promised to forget about it." 

The bow-tied Doctor snorted ruefully. "Looks like that worked out well."

"I did try," he retorted, feeling defensive. "I wanted to." He thought back to that night, nearly a year ago now, the eve of the last formal Vitex event. How beautiful she'd been, and him so unwilling to stray from her side for even a moment, lest some other bloke get some idea of her being available. It was a night when he'd have promised her anything, and her only request had been so simple. Liberating, even. _"Stop thinking about it."_ And then the tension between them, the tension of months, was gone, lifted and tossed away with his single word replied. _"Alright.'"_

The promise was kept in word, if not deed. Less than two hours later, he saw _her_ again, on his way to the car. Rose never knew. He never spoke of it to her again.

Rubbing the line between his brows, the Doctor leaned forward and stared at his trainers. "Um, the first time on the list, the first time I saw her, was the night I proposed. She was watching us, from the edge of that bit of wooded land behind her parent's house."

"What? Why? To make sure you got it right or something?"

He laughed, a tiny exhale. "Maybe. Good an explanation as any I've come up with."

"You know, this is doing nothing to convince me that it _wasn't_ a paparazzo."

He said nothing, wrestling internally over how much he ought to reveal. Then, "Look at the list again, at number nine."

"Yes, and...?"

"Now you can't hint to Rose, not a thing, mind- but I, I talked to her. The future one."

Eleven's chin slipped off his hand as his eyebrows shot up.

"I didn't realize, at first. Rose had been away on assignment; I hadn't been expecting her until the weekend. But I walked into the flat that night and there she was, sitting on the arm of the sofa. Smiling at me." He could still remember how surprised and thrilled he'd been. "She said she'd been sent back, temporarily, to pick up supplies or something, but she just had to see me for a bit. It didn't take me long to figure it out... anyway, I confronted her. I tried everything I could think of to get her to tell me why she was there, why I kept seeing her, but she wouldn't say a word about it. Just that I needed to stop asking, or I would put the timelines in danger. She was crying and apologizing, and then practically begging for me to let her go. So I did. What else _could_ I do?"

His other self was inspecting him closely. "And that's it?"

"Isn't that enough?" 

"But why do I feel like you're still hiding something? You can barely look me in the eye. How am I supposed to help you if-"

"You know, what I don't get is why you would even want to help me," he interrupted angrily, not bothering to sift his words at all anymore. He was so, so frustrated with all of it, all this pointless discussion. "Do I need to spell it out? If I die, you'll get her," he hissed.

For a second the older Doctor just sat there, appalled, and then he was on his feet, hands fisted, jaw clenched and protruding. "So I'm supposed to stand back and _let it happen,_ just because you stand between me and the only thing I've ever wanted? I may be abominably selfish at times, but when my own happiness would come at the price of causing Rose pain- I would never make that choice! Anyway, all of this," he added, waving his hands around, "what I want, what you want- it's immaterial. This is about what _Rose_ wants, and she wants you. Not me."

He walked away a few steps, then turned around. "And if I have anything to say about it, Rose Tyler gets what she wants."

"Yeah," he agreed, quietly grateful. "She does."

"Glad that's finally settled." The tweed-coated Time Lord smiled faintly, and clasped his hands in front of him. "Now be quiet and listen. I have a plan."

 

********

 

On hearing her name, Rose paused with her hand on the doorframe and looked over her shoulder, back into the huge office. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Tell him that Jacks'll be sure to want you two at the mansion for dinner tomorrow night. It's been far too long."

Her stepfather's twinkling eyes belied his solemn expression and his professional, behind-the-desk posture. Rose grinned at him. "The Doctor will be delighted, 'm sure."

"Thrilled, more like," he added dryly. "Now don't forget, I want to be briefed as soon as you hear from Jake."

"Will do, boss. See ya later."

Rose slipped into the corridor, tugging the door closed behind her. Updating Torchwood's head on the afternoon's progress had gone better than she'd expected. Pete had seemed sincerely happy that things seemed to be so close to being resolved, albeit a bit skeptical about the simplicity of the Doctor's plan to get the aliens to leave. But her dad was often skeptical of the Doctor's plans. And this usually irritated her, but she was willing to cut him a break today since (despite looking quite pained) he hadn't said a word when he found out just what exactly the Doctor had obtained to use as 'evidence'. 

Instead of heading downstairs immediately, Rose sagged back until her shoulder blades met the cool wall. The quiet, empty corridor was just what she needed, just for a moment or two, so she could try and sort out her conflicting emotions. The anxious worry of months was about to be done away with, she and the Doctor were finally going to have their lives back.... so what was this gnawing ache all about- twisting her stomach and tightening her throat, making her feel so much less than happy? Rose dug the toe of her trainer into the thick looped carpet and stared at it as she twisted it back and forth, biting her lip. 

_Because he's leaving. He's leaving... and he wants me with him._

She knew he knew it wasn't an option, but the sound of the one rogue word he'd allowed himself to say on the subject just wouldn't go away, but insisted on ringing hauntingly in her ears. 

_"Stay."_

A tight, strangled plea, escaping from his throat as if by accident, as if it were beyond his own free will. And in it, Rose heard just how difficult it had been for him to decide to come back here and see her again. What could have led him to do so? Sure, he'd helped them and she was grateful, but now that it was nearly over, what had he gotten from it? Nothing but pain. Downright cruel is what it was. And tonight she was supposed to just... just let him go, broken-hearted and miserable and still wanting her? If it weren't for the steady presence of the Ponds, she _couldn't_ do it. How could she ever be happy, knowing he was so sad? 

Yet it wasn't as simple as that. With a muted _thud,_ Rose dropped her head back against the wall, and closed her eyes. She managed to dredge up a bit of unpleasant honesty. This wasn't just about him and his pain. No, a good portion of her current heartache stemmed from her own desire, her own yearning, to have something she'd really no right to. 

She wanted him.

What an incredibly selfish creature she was. She already had the Doctor, was _married_ to him, had had her every dream fulfilled like some sort of pampered princess- and it wasn't enough? She would never be satisfied, would always have some part of her, wild and restless and longing, wishing to be with the other one, too. That thought made her feel small, and so, so insignificant, suddenly filling her with a deep sense of self-loathing. Just who did she think she was? Some sort of Council Estate Cinderella? She was nothing, a nobody, an ordinary girl, and the only thing that marked her as different was the audacity of her, wishing to claim the hearts of not just one, but two, of the last Lords of Time. What had she ever done to deserve his love? He would have been so much better off if he'd never met her. How much pain had she caused him over the years? How much would she continue to cause him?

With a small sound of frustration, Rose opened her eyes and went over to stare, unseeing, through the window at the end of the hall. These negative thoughts, so remarkably similar to the ones she'd had for days after the debacle that was _Bad Wolf Bay part Deux,_ were getting her exactly nowhere. With a pang she remembered how horrified the Doctor had been, back then, when she'd finally voiced them. _"You saved me,"_ he'd responded, with eyes more open and earnest than she'd ever seen from him, _"not just physically, but with your love, your loyalty, your hand in mine. Your **self.** Rose, you not only made me want to live again, you made me realize that, even more than nine-centuries in, I'd never really lived before." _

With a lump rising in her throat, Rose smiled at the glass, recalling only too well how rapidly the sturdy, protective walls she'd constructed round her heart had come tumbling down after _that_ little speech. After all, she loved him too, just as intensely as he loved her. And that was what truly mattered. None of them was perfect, and here they were, thrust together in this terribly difficult, complicated situation. There was no solution that could satisfy everyone. That was reality, and Rose just had to deal with it the best she could. 

And she couldn't put off dealing with it any longer. Taking her mobile from her jacket pocket, Rose looked at the screen, surprised at both how late it was and that the Doctor hadn't tried to ring her. She knew he would be itching to get out of Torchwood, just in case Jake failed to get the Ganglies to leave Earth and would have to resort to bringing them in. She walked quickly to the lift and summoned it with a press of a button. Then, when the doors didn't open in the first two seconds, huffed and pushed it a few more times. She had only this one last evening with the Time Lord Doctor, and Rose felt suddenly resentful of anything that might waste a minute of it.

She was bouncing on her toes by the time the doors slid open a minute later, and so hastily did she enter that she fully collided with the firm chest of the person standing just inside.

"Well, hello!" said a familiar, laughing voice. "In a bit of a rush now, are we?"

Dazed, Rose blinked up into a smiling face. "Doctor? What are you doing in here?"

"Looking for my wife, of course. I do believe she'd wandered off again."

She poked his chest hard with a finger and he pretended to wince. "Ha ha. Why didn't you just ring me? Would've told you I was comin'."

"Well. This is better, isn't it? Can't look into those lovely Rose Tyler eyes over the phone."

"Oh, and that couldn't wait five more minutes?" asked Rose, narrowing her 'lovely eyes' on him. This in itself wasn't that surprising, since once he got an idea in his head he frequently had a difficult time waiting even five _seconds_ before acting. Yet she was sure that wasn't the case here. He was hedging.

"No," he said, with a tap to a button on the control panel. The doors slid shut, closing them in. "I wanted some... privacy, actually. So I could tell you-" 

He was looking at her with such intensity that her heart rate picked up. "Yeah?"

Breaking eye contact, he ducked his head. "I'm sorry. I mean, that's what I needed to tell you. That I'm sorry." His gaze was soft when it darted up to meet hers again. "For acting so crazy these last couple of days. You were right, earlier. I am jealous; jealous and so scared and I just..." Suddenly he moved, so fast that before Rose even realized what he was doing, she found herself cuddled against him, encircled in his strong arms. He sighed. "I just love you. More than anything." He put his face to the side of her head. "Don't ever forget that, alright?" he added, his breath warm on her scalp, words muffled by her hair.

Guilt returned in full force, stabbing hotly through her heart. How could she _ever_ need more than just this one, this brilliant amazing man who'd given up everything for her and... and stayed? Rose squeezed him tightly, then leaned back in his arms, and caught his eyes. "Doctor, it's me who should be apologizing. I can only try to imagine how hard this must have been for you, and I shouldn't... I don't want- to have feelings for the, well... the other you. But they're not the same feelings, 'cos the truth of the matter is that he's _not_ you, not anymore. You're my husband; we have a history together all our own that he'll never be part of, and because of that I could never love him as much as I love-"

His lips came down, sudden and solid upon hers, stealing both the last of her confession and all of her breath. Rose was nearly overwhelmed, and it was all she could do just keep up as the Doctor seemed determined to meld not only their mouths with this kiss, but their very souls. As their link asserted itself, completed and flared, as it always did with such intimate contact, it enabled Rose to put name to everything he was pouring into it; his love, his joy, a possessiveness that didn't surprise her- a despair that _did._

She wrenched herself away, preventing him following with palms planted firmly against his chest. "What's this all about?" she asked, in flushed, breathless concern.

As his eyes slowly reopened Rose peered into them, worriedly searching for signs of the darkness she'd felt. But their inscrutable depths betrayed nothing alarming. Just warmth and love.

"Wasn't it obvious?" he replied, gravelly-voiced, half his mouth going up in that saucy grin that he really shouldn't be allowed to use on her, oh, especially when he paired it with kiss-reddened lips and ruffled hair and eyes that had darkened with anything but innocence.

Her own lips curved upward, and to keep from giving in to temptation she slipped a hand past him to start the lift. "Obvious, huh? Hardly a term I'd ever put on anything to do with _you._ " She leaned up and gave him another quick kiss. "C'mon, Romeo. Time to find our friends and go home."

 

********

When they exited onto Level 2 the Ponds were in immediate view, standing just outside the closed door of the Doctor's lab. 

"Hello," called Rose, when they got close enough, and they looked over and smiled. "Where's your Doctor?" 

"TARDIS," said Amy meaningfully, smile falling. "Tinkering, supposedly. Said he'd be right out."

A wave of uneasiness went through Rose. "And he left you two just waiting in the corridor?" 

"Oh, it's okay. He doesn't trust Amy in the lab when he can't watch her," said Rory, sharing a grin with Rose's Doctor. 

Amy rolled her eyes at them, but she looked sincerely upset. "He's being stupid. He's locked us out and everything, and he shouldn't be alone right now. I swear, I'm gonna have to stay on that ship with him for a _year_ after this is over." 

Rose's breath caught and she looked at Amy mournfully, heartache back in full force. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I wish there was some way- I hate seeing him be hurt like this. But... thank you for taking care of him."

"Whether he likes it or not," said Amy in that forceful way of hers, and although she was smiling, Rose knew she wasn't kidding. For this woman loved the Doctor too, loved and understood him, knew just what he needed. It was an enormous comfort, knowing that nothing would dissuade this fiery, powerful redhead from standing in between the Doctor and his inclination for miserable, solitary wallowing.

And he'd never dare run off and leave Amy stranded here, Rose decided, thinking of the lab's locked door with a bit less trepidation.

Still. Best not give him too much time to think about it.

"Well," said Rose, "let's go fetch him. Jake might come back here with those aliens, and I want us to be long gone if that happens."

But then her Doctor's mobile rang, the sound muffled inside his jacket, and he dug a hand in for it. "Speaking of Jake," he said, and pressed the phone to his ear. "Just a minute," he said into it, as he let himself into the lab with his sonic. He shut the door behind him without a single look back. 

"Private conversation?" said Rory, plainly implying he thought it was weird.

Considering all that her husband had gone through with the telepaths, and his lingering sensitivity to the topic, it probably was private, thought Rose. She wasn't about to explain this to Rory. She simply shrugged, just glad that he hadn't immediately rushed back out to announce the disappearance of the TARDIS.

Amy was regarding her thoughtfully. "Maybe he wants to talk to the Doctor without any of us hanging around. It's his one last chance to make sure you stay here, with him."

Rose raised her eyebrows, feeling annoyed by such an insinuation. "As if it's even a question."

The ginger was undeterred, looking Rose straight on with wise dark eyes, her tone full of conviction. "Your husband apparently thinks it is. I told him he's wrong, but I don't think he believed me. Don't you know how terrified he is? Has been all day. He told me, straight out, that he had no idea what was going to happen."

Struck, Rose stared at her. "You must have misunderstood, Amy. He just doesn't like the situation. It's... it's uncomfortable, yeah? But he knows-"

_"Tyler!"_

Rose slowly turned her head, and her heart skipped several beats as she beheld a serious-looking Jake quickly coming her way, his booted footsteps loud against the tiled floors. "Jake? What's going on? I thought... weren't you just on the phone with the Doctor?" she called out, as a sudden chill ran from head to toes, prickling her flesh in its wake.

"What?" said Jake, scrunching his nose, utterly confused. "No, not that I didn't try about a hundred times. But he didn't pick up, and neither did you. Rose, I'm so sorry, but we couldn't find anything-" he paused, confusion quickly becoming concern as she pushed by him in a rush, straight to the door of the Doctor's lab. The knob rattled futilely in her hand. Rose cursed.

"Doctor!" she shouted, as panic took hold, and then began pounding on the door with the heel of an open hand. "Let me in! _Doctor!_ "

"Rose?" said Jake, grasping her arm. "Calm down. I need you tell me what's going on-"

" _I_ need someone to _unlock this bloody door,_ Jake!" she snapped as she brushed him off, roughly shoving a hand into her jacket to retrieve her mobile. And swore again, as it was immediately evident why she hadn't received any of Jake's calls. _Someone_ had powered it down. 

Rose heaved in a ragged breath, trying to slow the runaway pounding of her heart, when a white fluttering caught her eye- something else from her pocket?- a small, folded bit of paper, lying softly on the floor. Not trash... it had her name scrawled on it, she saw, as she crouched down, reaching for it in a fog. And the handwriting was unmistakable. 

Rose closed her eyes, exhaling as she straightened back up, crushing the unread note in a trembling, white-knuckled fist. 

"Rose?" came Jake's voice, soft and hesitant and very unlike him. "I'm sorry, love." She forced her eyes open, meeting his stricken hazel ones. He stood in the doorway of the now-open lab.

"No." She told him. Implored him.

"The TARDIS is gone." 

"No," she repeated, dully, wanting to look for herself, to prove Jake wrong. He'd _promised._

The paper's sharp edges dug into her palm, and then she didn't want look anymore, to see firsthand the evidence of his betrayal. Rose slid to sit on the floor instead. "Doctor," she whispered, "what have you _done?_ "


	32. Chapter 31

She must have got it wrong.

He was a Lord of Time. She, a silly human girl, who'd believed she was enough to content him, somehow, in their silly human life. With his scribbled goodbye growing damp in the palm of her hand, it was incredibly easy for Rose to let her mind race to the darkest places it could think of. Of course his choice, if given one, would always be the stars. Long-buried fears, nearly forgotten faces _(Sarah Jane, Reinette)_ swam into view, and served only to convince her further. She drew her knees up and hugged them, let her forehead drop down-

"MORONS!"

-and instantly popped it up again, startled as the loud, vehemently spoken word broke through her thoughts like a stone in a pool, scattering and dispersing the images. From her place on the corridor floor, Rose watched Amy stomp out of the lab, elbowing Jake out of her way. "They're not trustin' us, they're getting emotional, and that's always bad," she proclaimed as she came over to Rose, her figure tall and looming. "I should have known that he'd be _twice_ as stupid when there's another one of him!"

Amy's flashing-eyed gaze went to Rory and Jake before returning to Rose. "Look at us. We all know him, probably better than anyone else ever has, and we all fell for it! Will somebody please tell me how we all forgot about rule number one?"

"Rule number one?" echoed Rose, getting stiffly to her feet. "Amy, whatever they're doing, it was planned. Deliberate." Her jaw clenched at the feel of the note in her hand. She shoved it deep in her pocket, then wiped her hands on her trousers. "Hardly qualifies as wandering off."

Amy frowned, and Rory's low voice caught Rose's attention. "Rule number one," he said. "You know, 'the Doctor lies.'"

More pain crept into Rose's injured heart. "Since when has that been rule number one?" She gave her head a shake. "Doesn't matter, does it? It fits. 'The Doctor lies.' So what does that mean, exactly? He just lies to you all the time and you, you just put up with it?"

"Put up with it?" repeated Amy slowly, as if she had never thought of it that way. "Yes... because I understand why he does it. It's only ever been to protect us, Rose. His motive is always good." She paused, and a sly smile appeared at one corner of her mouth. "And no. That alien may think he's the cleverest man alive, but that doesn't mean he always knows what he's doing. And that's where we come in."

"So you think they're still on Earth? This Earth?"

Lips curving patronizingly, Amy looked torn between wanting to pat Rose on the head or laugh at her. "Of course they are," she said, eyebrows raised, her enunciation clear and careful. "If I've learned anything in this last crazy couple of days, it's that there's somebody that alien'd give up everything to be with. _You._ "

Rose flushed and Amy grinned. "Besides," she added, tossing her head importantly, "the Doctor is far, far too scared of me to abandon me anywhere. They've snuck off to fix this problem of yours, and they know we won't like how they're doin' it."

Rose realized that Amy had pegged it, spot on, though her 'won't like how they're doin' it' might be the understatement of the year. Now the note in her pocket became a goodbye of an entirely different sort. The kind that meshed perfectly with the deep despair he'd been feeling and had inadvertently shared through his kiss, the remnants of which still lingered in her mind like a bruise.

And then Rose understood everything with startling clarity.

_He thinks he's going to die._

Fear flooded her veins, dissipating her heartbreak in a potent, adrenaline-fueled rush. But Rose Tyler knew fear well, and for her, fear was not crippling. Fear made her powerful. With a quick inhale, her spine went straight, her chin up. "Oh no you don't," muttered Rose, heading straight for the lab. "You're not allowed to just run off and get yourself killed without my permission. Sorry to spoil your fun, dear, but I have other plans for this weekend."

She glanced over her shoulder to the bewildered faces of her friends. "Are you coming or what? Amy's right; those two have no idea what they're doing. Time for us to step in."

********

He had to have gotten this wrong.

So yeah, this was an abandoned warehouse; he'd known it wasn't going to be all marble floors and plush armchairs and things. Just, did it really have to be so... so stereotypically bleak?

Keeping near the rear wall of a long, narrow room within, the Doctor tracked a short line back and forth, debris and broken glass crunching under his trainers. There was no power but yellowish light crept in through the grime-coated windows, coloring the area in sepia tones, like a scene from a dream or an old-time photograph.

"Well," he said, pausing to kick rather viciously at a large clump of dirt, "if this is a dream, then it can go _hang._ "

Sadly, he was only too lucid. And he had himself to blame for his surroundings, since he was the one who'd picked this place. Practical, he'd insisted stubbornly, when the older Time Lord had tried to argue. The confrontation had to go unnoticed, and he liked having solid walls on three sides, so he couldn't be caught unawares this time. More important, Rose would never be able to find him.

It wasn't as if he deserved better than this, anyway.

Sliding his fingers through the hair over his right ear, the Doctor made sure his earbud was still firmly lodged, though he'd switched it off a while ago. And while the aliens weren't here yet, no doubt they would be soon. He felt like an inmate at the end of his sentence, awaiting the executioner's block.

And like any other being in a similar situation, the Doctor found himself thinking not of the dreads his last hour might bring, but of the girl he loved. The girl he was leaving behind.

The girl he'd lied to. The Doctor's pacing unconsciously picked up speed, and he tried not to think about the aftermath of the last time he'd deceived her. Him blind, aching and bandaged, her sobbing in his arms. His inner resolve: never, never make Rose Tyler cry again.

Was she... was she crying right now? He froze, cringing at the mere idea of it. She might be. Surely by now she knew he was gone. He wondered if she'd found the note yet; couldn't prevent the unpleasant mental image _that_ conjured up. Rose with a white, stunned face, Rose, panic-stricken.

Rose, angry. Her emotions might run the gamut, but oh, he knew that's the one that would stick. And he hated for it to be that way but... wouldn't it be so much easier for her to move on if his last actions were unforgivable?

A sudden clatter had him nearly jumping out of his skin, hand flying to the tiny switch at his ear. His eyes quickly scoured the room, locking in on the closed door, half-expecting to find the knob slowly turning, like in some eerie horror flick. Finally, he discovered the cat, poking its small tabby face out from underneath a filthy canvas drop cloth that lay crumpled in the corner. The way the white fabric draped over the cat's forehead and ears directed his thoughts to furry feline nuns, and he smiled at the reminder of New Earth. Of lying back on elbows next to Rose on a brilliant, blue-lined coat, inhaling applegrass-scented air. Before the meta-crisis, that had been one of the happiest days of his life. He'd always meant for them to return to New Earth but lost her before he'd gotten the chance.

It suddenly occurred to him that more than likely, this would be the first place his other self would take her. Well. Rose would love it, probably; she'd always loved New Earth. Maybe it would take her back, make her feel as if the last six years had never happened at all. The Doctor imagined Rose, happily, easily, slipping back into her old life on the TARDIS, once again side by side with the proper Time Lord. Well. That was good, wasn't it? He tried to see it as a comfort, but the more he thought about it, the faster he paced, and the more his chest constricted, impairing his oxygen intake until his world blurred around the edges.

He tripped over a tiny piece of gravel and nearly fell, but caught himself at the last second. The Doctor bent at the waist and forced himself to breathe, a slow in and out, hands flat on his thighs. Calm down.

He'd been trying to avoid the timelines, but now he faced them straight on and saw what up until now he had only sensed. Even as he stood here, events were solidifying, threads weaving together, the circle tightening. Like a noose around his neck.

And he was doing nothing to prevent it.

_Then what the hell was he doing?_

The Doctor slowly straightened, looking around the grotty place with new and intense distaste.

He narrowed his eyes, set his jaw, and decided.

 _Sod_ his other self and his impatience to be gone from here. Sod his hasty, impetuous, stupid plan. He didn't have to do this right now. He was _not_ giving up, and since that's exactly what it felt like, he was out of here. The Doctor sprinted for the exit, fueled by renewed hope and purpose. His final words with his wife would _not_ be laced with deceit. Her last memories of him would not be of broken promises. No. He would find Rose and beg her forgiveness, on bended knees if he had to.

Relief flooded his system when he somehow reached the door without anything preventing him. He yanked it open.

And skidded to a stop as a very familiar figure came into view. "What?"

********

Pressing a hand to his lower back, Rory stretched, yawning. It had been a full day already and he was getting tired, but knew there was much more to come. He continued to stand behind the work table, watching a gridded screen over the curved shoulders of the two women seated before it. When it flashed another new reading, Rose carefully adjusted an unmarked dial. It seemed like boring work but every line of her body was tense and determined, like this was the first stretch of a race she was bound to win. Amy sat beside her, quietly encouraging, and there was a certain fierceness to the set of her mouth. He was glad it wasn't directed his way. Those two together would be a force to be reckoned with, and he felt an ever growing sense of pity for the two rogue Time Lords who would ultimately face the reckoning.

There was no sound in the lab except for the occasional one spit out by the temperamental machine. A bio-scanner, Rose had called it, and claimed it was quite alien in spite of its retro eighties-model telly look. It had buzzed and clicked and flickered the images on the screen for nearly forty tension-ridden minutes now, but it had never outright defied the blonde woman. Rory was pretty sure it wouldn't dare.

At long last, a single pink dot appeared after what had seemed like scores of red ones.

"Does that mean something?" asked Amy, sounding a tad breathless.

"Yep," Rose responded, already sliding her chair to the side. Her hands flew, working to match up the corresponding neighborhood on the Doctor's laptop.

"Why's there only one showing up? They should be together."

Rose shrugged and continued clicking away on the mouse. "Must not be. Either the other one is farther away or still in the TARDIS. This one's my Doctor. Pink 'cos he's part human."

"So my Doctor just up and abandoned yours?" said Amy, peering at the computer. "In that part of Hackney? What is he even thinking?"

"Who knows?" said Rose. "I am so far past even trying to guess anymore." She slammed the laptop shut. "All I know is that, with traffic, it's gonna take us at least twenty minutes to get there. Let's go."

********

The Doctor stood aside to allow her entry, mouth working soundlessly before he managed to get a word out. "Rose! How... how did you find me?" he asked, eyes wide, before his sharp _"Oh"_ sucked all the air out of the room. Longer hair, thinner face. Cheekbones just a bit more defined. "It's you." He laughed, a nervous response that echoed in the empty space, mocking him with how frightened he sounded. "Have you come to try and save me again?"

"No," she said, rather absently. Her eyes were tracking over his face as though she were trying to memorize him, to soak him in. The implications of this made his throat ache. Without thinking, the Doctor stretched a hand out.

Rose backed away. "Probably not a good idea if you touch me, yeah?" she said, but sounded like she didn't mean a word of it. "In fact, it's probably best if we go back to that wall." She pointed.

"Yeah," he echoed, not moving, staring at her. "Rose, why-"

"You were really gonna run just now?"

"Well, yeah."

"To go back to me?" A smile broke out. It was genuine, marveling.

He nodded vigorously. "I shouldn't have run off at all. I regretted it, regretted lying to you. Didn't want to leave things like that." He studied her, tilting his head. "But I did anyway, didn't I?"

She sighed. "I can't let you run from this. Though trust me, at one time I'd have been all for it. I hate it, but... I know now that you have to be here, love."

He was silent. This was the opposite of what he wanted to hear.

"And I know you're scared," she went on. "Scared of what will happen today, scared of what comes next. But... it's fixed. But you already know that, don't you? Surely you feel it."

He closed his eyes, nodding. Even now he could feel the threads of time converging, melding together, securing the end of what would become an unfrayable seam. Soon there'd be no stopping it. "Am I going to die?"

"I'm sorry," she said, and he opened his eyes as she stepped closer, hovering just out of reach. "I can't tell you. What I can tell you, what I've come here to say, is... it's gonna be okay. Whatever happens next." She tucked a hand into the pocket of her dark green jacket, pulling from it a folded white square. Or what used to be a white square, but was now rather yellowed, curled concavely. Rose held it out in the tips of her fingers and he took it from her, noticing the sharp flatness of its edges, as if it had been handled a million times but never unfolded. He flipped it over and read the name scribbled there by his own pen. _Rose._

He looked up, searching her eyes with his own. "You've never read it?"

"No."

"Why?" he breathed, fearing the worst. _She hated him._

"Because... reading it felt too much like acceptance. Like I was giving up, and I could never... Anyway. Whatever it is that you needed to tell me, I don't want to hear in a note." She stepped closer, further bridging the gap between them. "I want to hear it from you."

He gaped.

She waited.

He looked down at the note, then back up at Rose. "You mean right now?"

She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

His jaw shut with a click, and he gave the small note another quick look before handing it back to her. He'd poured his heart out onto that paper, and it was killing him to find out that, for who knew how long now, she had gone without knowing. Well, that would be rectified before another second passed him by.

"It says that I'm sorry," he said, swallowing, trying to convey the sincerity of his written words. "Sorry about this-" he waved his hands about "-in particular, but also sorry that I've been hiding things from you. I hated doing it, but I had no idea what else to do. Above all else, love, I have to protect you; I can't... I can't help it. I can't see you hurt, whether physically by these aliens, or by..." He sighed, looking away. "Rose, I'm fairly sure you already know what's about to happen today. I couldn't bear the idea of you seeing it. But I can't run from this either, not when it's my best, probably only, chance to make sure you don't end up alone here."

He stuffed his fists in his pockets to keep himself from taking her hands. "I promised you forever, Rose. And I've broken so many promises. I just needed to be sure I got that one right."

Cheeks reddening, Rose looked angry, but not with him. "I don't think there was ever the slightest chance of you not keeping _your_ side of that promise, Doctor. I made sure of that, didn't I? When I was Bad Wolf. Having one of you wasn't enough, apparently. So I went ahead and made myself a spare."

"Rose-"

"'S true, Doctor. And if anybody's breaking a promise around here, it's me. I promised you forever first, remember? And I didn't keep it. Though for awhile I felt like giving myself a free pass, considerin' how there was suddenly two of you and only one of me. And even if... _if_ I got a chance to fix that, it's still selfish, isn't it?" Her lips trembled and she blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're _not-_ "

"I may not remember doin' it but I planned all of this," she went on, swiping angrily at the inside corner of an eye. "I had the power to make sure that no matter what, Rose Tyler could have everything she ever wanted. Just not all at once."

"No, Rose," he said adamantly, throwing his hands out. "If, in fact, you- no, not you, _Bad Wolf_ \- were behind any of this, I'm sure that every bit was for me."

"How could it be?" she choked, tears now falling freely. "You, both of you, are the ones paying the price for all of it!"

"I wouldn't change a thing," he told her fiercely, eyes round and earnest. "Not any part of it. I don't care how short it was, I'm so, so happy I got to live this life with you. So happy that I didn't have to take you away from your family. And when you ask _him_ , he'll say the same thing."

He moved to wipe her tears away, but Rose jerked away from him. "Sorry," he said, watching her scrub at her face.

"It's alright," she said, looking down at her watch. "They'll be here any minute now. I have to go."

"Okay," he said. "But Rose, promise me you'll stop thinking like that. You are not selfish. Forgive yourself. And please, please, forgive me."

"I have, Doctor," she assured him, sniffing. "Though I'll admit I was quite angry with you at first. But eventually, I understand."

He nodded. "Good, that's good. Thank you."

She nodded, biting her lip, and he could see she was still fighting back tears as she raised one hand, a final farewell, before disappearing through the open door.

The Doctor sagged. "It also says that I love you," he said, to an empty room, and hoped that someday she'd read it for herself.

Her face reappeared in the doorway. "I love you too. My Doctor," she added, and her smile was identical to the first one she'd ever given him. Wide and brave.

Then she was gone.

********

"Um, you actually could have made a left just as well at the next junction," gasped Rory from the backseat, narrowly avoiding banging his head against the window as Rose compensated for her missed turn with a wild swerve, directly into an alley.

Rose didn't answer. Rory gripped the back of her seat tightly with two hands, teeth rattling as the vehicle rocketed over a series of potholes.

Amy turned from from her quiet watching through the windscreen to give the other woman an admiring glance.

"Faster," she said, as they burst out onto the next street with a right turn so sharp it had to have been on two wheels.

"Yeah," agreed Rose, with a grim hard nod, and as the engine roared Rory's fingers gave way and he plowed into the seat back.

********

He'd barely made it back to the safety of the wall before the Doctor heard another small sound. He squeezed his eyes shut, suppressing a growl, but in truth, he had been fully expecting this. " _Idiot_ , I told you you can't be here," he said forcefully, "if they get even the smallest whiff-"

He trailed off, mouth still open, as a slow movement in front of him caught his eye. "Oh," he said eloquently. "Hello." At least he sounded calm. He got the earbud switched on without incident, felt it shielding his mind as he spared a quick glance over his shoulder. Just to make sure one of them hadn't somehow snuck back there. He wasn't risking that again.

He counted as they filed in, their tall forms skimming the top of the doorframe. Three, five, six. All of them, unhurriedly crossing the long room toward him without hesitation, without fear. Not that he'd be able to actually _see_ fear on their waxy, immobile features, or in their frighteningly dull eyes. There wasn't anything there he'd even call recognition, yet they moved with certainty toward their intended target. Him.

"Wait," said the Doctor. He held up his hands, palms forward, in what was a nearly universal sign of surrender. "Please. I have something I need to show you." It didn't help and so he brought his fingertips to his temples instead, hoping the uniquely telepathic gesture might have more of an effect.

His hopes rose to the sky when they actually slowed, then paused, considering him. Several thick heartbeats passed in silence. The Doctor started when the one in the middle opened his mouth and spoke out loud. Six smooth syllables. Not one did he understand.

He shook his head, eyes widening as they resumed their approach. His mouth took over by default, though he knew they didn't comprehend a word. "Please. I know you're angry, and really, I don't blame you. They interfered, didn't they? My people. And something bad happened, and that's the part I'm entirely clueless about, really clueless, honestly. And oh," he said, backing up a few more steps, "I wish you could tell me about it, because I want to know. I want to understand. But I want you to understand me too. I'm not one of them. Never was really, but especially not anymore. I'm part human, of Earth. You must be able to sense that, yeah?"

They were so close, now. Just a few long strides separated him from the telepaths, and the Doctor couldn't back away any farther. But again- they hesitated, and he saw something in their glassy eyes. Encouraged, he carried on. "I'm not one of them," he said again. "Earth, the beautiful little planet that we're standing on right now, this is my home. And they interfered here, too, but I wasn't part of that either. They were wrong. Please... please don't blame me. I have people too, who need me, my wife-"

"Show us."

The Doctor blinked, inhaling a sharp breath, and stared at the one who had spoken. "What?"

"Show us," repeated the alien in the middle, with a touch to his own temples. Then he held his hands out, as in invitation, and waited.

After a few moments of thoughtful hesitation, the Doctor took a single step forward. He eyed the other five in the group warily. "I'm afraid," he said, voice quiet. "I don't want to be ambushed."

They stared at one another for what seemed like forever, but the Doctor doggedly held his ground. His breath quickened when, finally, the lanky man in the middle took one step forward, then another, until he was so close that the Doctor could smell him, feel the warmth radiating from his lean body. Extraordinarily long fingers went for his temples, and oh, it took every ounce of courage he possessed not to run. Instead, the Doctor sucked in a breath, letting his eyes fall shut. With one smooth, quick motion, he plucked the tiny disruptor from his ear, dropping it uselessly to the floor.

********

Tires scraped the curb as Rose pulled over and slammed on the brakes. She threw the Jeep into park and joined Amy and Rory, who were already flying from the vehicle.

"Which one is it, again?" asked Rory, hand on the back of his neck as he looked worriedly up at the massive, graffiti-covered building. There were at least half a dozen entrances just on this one side.

Rose shook her head. "Dunno. Wait a sec." She closed her eyes, trying calm down enough to sense him through their bond, praying that he wasn't too far away. She growled at the vague sensation; all she could tell is that he needed her, but she wasn't even sure if that was real or her own wishful thinking.

Opening her eyes, Rose pointed at the first door she saw. "This one."

She ran for it.

********

He was prepared to share images, so it was jarring when the Doctor received them instead. Tall walls of solid, rough-hewn rock, surrounding him on all sides and sloping low over his head. It was mostly cold and black, like coal, but streaked with sparkling veins of silver. It gleamed and shone like polished onyx under the dancing light of the fiery torches, set into the walls in an endless line that eventually vanished in the dark distance. Masses of tall, humanoid figures perspiring under ceaseless efforts, chipping and hacking with long-handled picks and chisels. Bits of the silver tossed into buckets and bins.

It was not a precious metal or stone. A necessary mineral.

They were harvesting.

"They were miners," he marveled aloud, and felt affirmation come through the link. "What happened?"

Men appeared, ostentatious in their heavy robes of orange and crimson and gold. Prophets, came the thought in his head, but the Doctor already knew they were not. Yet they'd come with a warning, given in trust as a shared mental vision- frightening scenes of crumbling, dangerous rock, grey dust as thick and unbreathable as water, crushing and choking the lives out of those working below- and terrible words. _Get them out now._

But... it was too soon. Winter was fast approaching, and what they had reaped so far was insufficient. But the warning was dire, and the Doctor watched as the order was given. The caves were abandoned.

And then- weeks went by. The prediction went unfulfilled, and as the tribe elders kept avid watch, they wondered if they'd somehow fallen victim. Had the strangers been false prophets? Yet how could it be, when the vision had come so clear from their minds?

As winter dawned with a heavy wet snow, the mine's collapse finally happened- exactly as predicted, and the Doctor felt the people's initial relief at hundreds of lives spared. At not having been fooled, after all. But underlying it all was deep, deep worry. Worry over the weeks that were wasted, of so much harvest lost. Would they have enough to fortify their people, to strengthen them for the desolate months ahead?

He knew what the answer would be, before they ever reached their story's sickening finale. Bodies and bodies and bodies, men, women, children, who, lacking the nourishment their mortal flesh craved, were unable to bear up under the onslaught of the hardest winter their world had ever had to endure.

And the Doctor knew what their question would be, before they even asked him.

_Why?_

Why would these so-called prophets, with their magnificent means of foretelling the future, have _not_ foreseen this? Why had they halted the harvest so early, when just a little more time would have amply provided what their peoples needed to survive? It would have been far better if they had never been warned of the mine collapse at all. What was hundreds of lives lost, when compared to hundreds of thousands?

_Hundreds of thousands._

The Doctor's breath caught on a sob, and as the vision wound down he concentrated on pouring all of his pain, his sorrow, his compassion into the other man's mind. He tossed away as worthless the images of what had been done to his Earth. How could he even consider sharing something so small, so petty? He couldn't even think about zeppelins. What were they in light of so many lives lost? No. The price of the Time Lords, _his people_ , interfering here was nothing. There was only insult in making comparison.

He gasped as the pressure of gangly fingers on his temples increased exponentially, digging in to the point of pain. One final thought flitted through.

_Do you not agree that someone should pay for it?_

And his own response, spoken aloud.

"Yes. Someone should."

********

Rooms, rooms, rooms, filthy, cobwebby, _empty_ rooms! Rose ran a shaking hand through her hair. One more and she was going to scream in frustration!

"Rose!" It was Amy, calling her from the next hallway over. Rose spun on her heels, breath coming in short pants as she raced around the corner.

Amy, white and shaken, was standing in an open doorway. Rory was rushing in from the other direction. When Amy heard Rose coming she looked her way, pointing frantically. "He's in here! Hurry!"

Rose flew past her and then came to an abrupt halt at the dreadful, heart-stopping sight that met her. Her husband, at the center of what seemed to be an entire mass of Ganglies. His eyes were closed, and he hung forward with posture so limp it was as though the only thing keeping him upright were the very alien hands placed just where they should not be.

On his very vulnerable head.

 _"Doctor!"_ she cried, falling to her knees as she spent every last ounce of her strength on the word.

Six alien faces slowly turned to stare at her, terrifying her further with their blank, unresponsive gazes. And then- they wisped away, vanishing entirely like smoke in a wind.

Rose was powerless, able only to watch as her love, her Doctor, stumbled backward, finally managing to open his eyes with dazed effort.

He saw her, his mouth formed her name.

And then he too was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note to all of you TenToo fans- please, please don't hate me! I'm so, so sorry to end things like this, but I promise to get the next part up as soon as I can. Please give it a chance! And thank you, all of you lovely readers! One chapter to go!
> 
> 11-8-14 I'm so sorry, but I don't have chapter 33 quite ready to go yet. :( Life has been especially crazy these last couple of weeks, but I have a bit more time to work on it now and I will get it posted ASAP.


	33. Chapter 32

_And then, he too was gone._

********

It was so quiet, so still. Rose would swear time itself had caught in a single freeze-frame, if it weren't for her pulse in her ears pounding out the passing seconds. And if she moved, breathed, she might break apart, or simply fade away. 

Exactly like he did. 

Perhaps that was exactly what she wanted. 

She wasn't sure she could take it anymore; him getting lost into places it was near impossible for her to follow.

From out of nowhere Amy's thin arms came and enveloped her tightly, a well-meaning comfort which succeeded only in ending Rose's merciful numbing stasis. The cogs of her mind chugged back into motion. This couldn't be real. She'd given it everything in her to get here in time, to _save_ him. Was it all for this? For nothing? _Yes,_ went her eyes and _no,_ her heart, desperately battling one another, pragmatic visible reality versus feeble yet stubborn denial.

_Not gone not dead not too late I made it he was right there right there right there_

Less than a minute had passed but Rose had already allowed herself to be so consumed by pain that she nearly didn't hear it. A word, low and quick with an impatient edge- like a curse, coming straight out of nowhere on an impossible little breeze. With a quick sniff, Rose straightened and stilled, listening with all her might. 

But there was nothing, the room held nothing but empty silence. 

She was definitely losing it.

_Thunk._

Then a shuffling sound. Rose met Amy's equally startled eyes. Rory came up to stand beside where they kneeled; his gaze fixed straight ahead, his long form rigid and waiting.

Several moments passed, and when it happened again, this time there was no mistaking it. "Oi," said the wall, distinctly. "Bit of help would be nice."

"Raggedy Man," drawled Amy, low, "is that you?"

More scuffling. 

Rose held her breath. 

"Why?" came the voice again- a mix of breathless, distracted and annoyed. "Does it look like it might be the Queen of England?"

Amy's lips pursed. "No, stupid. You don't look like _anything._ " Releasing Rose, the redhead began slowly rising to her feet. "You've got the invisibility shields on again, haven't you?"

 

"................. _Bugger_........SORRY!" 

Hasty rustling, like fabric on fabric. 

And an aborted high-pitched buzz. 

Nothing.

_Smack, smack._

Another short buzz and a muttered complaint. "Blimey, this thing _is_ a bit useless, isn't it?"

Rose's eyes were beginning to dry and burn. Finally there was a round, fully productive _whirr._ The air in front of them began to shimmer like heat off black asphalt, dissipating to reveal a box of the bluest blue, a blessed splotch of brightness in the dingy room.

Directly before the doors of the time-ship stood the bow-tied Doctor, eyes apologetic and sheepish underneath his drooping fringe of dark hair. And then suddenly Rose's heart was desperate to agree with what her eyes were telling it because with him, barely supported by the tweed-clad arms going under his armpits and around his chest, was the slumped form of Rose's Doctor. 

Her hand went to her open mouth. 

The older Doctor had the silvery, blue-tipped screwdriver clutched in a hand. "Sorry about the delay and all, couldn't get to my own, proper sonic-"

In a flurry of movement, Rose was at their side. "Is he alright?" she gasped, sliding her hand along her husband's slack face, through the roughness of his sideburn, into his damp hair. His skin was warm, cheeks almost too pink. 

"Yes, yes, just a bit overloaded, maybe," the other Doctor assured her, as Amy and Rory appeared at their sides. 

Hot, fat tears gathered in her eyes, but didn't drop until after Rose helped the Doctor lower him to the floor, reclining him semi-upright against the TARDIS. Then they absolutely rolled, unchecked, as his lips parted, then his eyelids. When his blurry-eyed gaze focused and landed on her and Rose heaved for air, fisting her hands in his lapels, and buried her face in his chest. When she felt his arms come up around her she began to sob, great, wracking things that robbed her body of breath. 

"Shhh, love, it's okay," his voice was hoarse at her ear. "I'm alright. I'm so sorry."

"No, this is all my fault," came the horror-struck voice of the other Doctor, from somewhere above them. "I can't imagine how bad that must've looked- I was here the whole time. I wasn't going to let them hurt him, Rose, please don't cry."

She didn't answer. Her own Doctor's hands begin stroking up and down her back. "I'm still here," he said, with a tinge of awe in his voice that confirmed her suspicion. He'd been nowhere near as optimistic about the outcome of this situation as his counterpart seemed to be. 

Rose burrowed deeper into his chest. "Do you have any idea how angry I am with you right now?" she mumbled, her breath coming back hot against her own face.

She felt him nod. He hadn't yet guessed that the answer to this was _not very much at all,_ though she wanted to be. Though she probably should be. But he was _dead_ and now he wasn't and even without reading that bloody note she had a pretty good idea as to the reason why he'd been willing to risk his life today. Amy was right. It had to do with protecting her, nothing new there. It was a last ditch, misguided effort to keep that promise she'd wrangled from him- and the fleeting, impossible presence of a two-hearted, bow-tied contingency plan. 

"Don't blame him," said the other Doctor, sorrowfully, and Rose lifted her face from her husband's shirt to look up at him. "This was all my doing, my daft idea. But Rose, they're gone now, see? That's something, innit?"

Her Doctor shook his head, squinting painfully. "It doesn't make up for what I did," he said, looking at her with dark, remorseful eyes. "I lied to you again, Rose. I ran off. I made life-changing decisions without consulting you. It was unforgivable."

"Yes, you did all of those things," she replied, swallowing at the sheer amount of pain in his eyes, how his hand trembled slightly against her face. "Later, we're gonna talk about all of it. I'm probably going to be very, very angry, and yell, I might slam a few doors." This got her a tiny smile. "But 'unforgivable'?" She shook her head. "I get it. I don't like it, but I get it. And in a way I actually feel sort of responsible, like I'm, oh I dunno, a teacher who's let the two most troublesome boys in the entire school sit together alone all day in the back of the class. Who am I to wonder when all hell breaks loose?"

She hadn't realized how tense he was until all the air left his lungs in a whoosh. "He _is_ a terrible influence," conceded her Doctor, with a ghost of a smile.

"I know," admitted the other one, his sigh just as heavy.

"Can we please go home now?" asked Rose, dirt clinging to her jeans as she got to her feet. She helped her husband up and he swayed slightly, clenching his eyes shut.

"Bit dizzy," he said, faintly. Rose lifted his arm around her shoulders, and Rory hastened to support his weight from the other side.

"Jeep's outside," said Rose, eyeing first the TARDIS and then the new Doctor. "We can't leave it here. You'll meet us at our flat?"

"Promise," he assured her. "I won't disappear. But you could take the Ponds with you, if you want. Amy knows I'd never dare abandon her," he added, shooting a tired grin at his companion. "But the TARDIS needs a good recharge before she can make the trip. Might take a while. Invisibility shields really are a drain on the power."

"Okay," said Rose. "Just don't try it as an excuse for being late. Time machine, remember?"

 

********

 

It was a full ten hours before the TARDIS regained enough energy to make the short hop to their flat. The Doctor was grateful for every minute of it. Even so, he was still not ready to do this. To say goodbye.

He didn't do goodbyes. He ran; it was practically instinctive by now. Self-preservation. He'd run from Rose before, lost her, had even sent her away. All had lanced him straight through the hearts, yet none were as terrifying as the prospect set before him now. Standing so still, looking into the eyes of the one he he'd loved no other, and bidding her a deliberate, eternal farewell.

But she deserved better than the endings he'd created in their past. And it wasn't her fault he'd allowed himself to be drawn in to the folly of hoping that he might keep her, and never say goodbye at all. Yet he was not sorry her husband had lived. And he was glad that at least some of that was his doing. The telepaths would likely have killed his counterpart without giving him the slightest chance if the TARDIS hadn't been there, if her translation circuit hadn't kicked in just in time. 

Bottom line: Rose was happy because of him. 

And that would have to be enough.

He was at one of the windows when he heard a key in their lock, staring out into the dusk as it highlighted the gingerbread city like icing, and preparing himself to resist this final temptation. Fabricating a smile, he turned to find the Ponds coming in, laden down with brown paper grocery bags. They were followed by Rose and the Meta-crisis, who was looking somewhat better now, and moving under his own power. The Doctor watched him as he beelined for the sofa and flung himself down with a groan, propping his trainer-clad feet on the coffee table.

"Are you hungry, Doctor?" asked Rose with a smile, dropping her keys on the table next to the door. "Amy and Rory have offered to cook dinner for us tonight. Though I must say that what they have planned is a bit... interesting."

His best friend smirked but said nothing as she set her bags down on a countertop. Reaching inside one, she began pulling out boxes of frozen fish fingers.

Comfort food.

"Amelia Pond," said the Doctor warmly, with a small shake of his head. Amy looked over at him and smiled.

"So it's true, then?" asked Rose, her amused smile widening. "Fish fingers and custard? Really?" 

"New taste buds, new rules," said the Doctor. "Don't knock it till you try it, Rose Tyler."

"Don't worry, I bought pasta too, just in cases the two of you end up not liking it," said Rory, depositing his own bags in the kitchen. 

"But you _do_ like it? Not just him?" asked Rose in genuine surprise, peeking in one of the bags.

"Yeah, long story," replied Rory, as he shooed her from the kitchen with a grin. "But definitely one you need to hear later." 

"You should have seen what he did to my kitchen," added Amy with a laugh.

Rose shrugged and went to join her Doctor on the sofa. He was looking slightly pitiful lying there, eyes closed, head thrown back against the cushions. But the Doctor saw him smile as Rose tucked herself up against him.

"Big chin, definite food issues," Pinstripes commented dryly, looking up as the Doctor perched on the other end of the sofa. "Blimey. Do I just get stranger with every regeneration?"

The Doctor glared at him. "I wouldn't have licked the zeppelin."

"You licked my garden shed," called Amy from around the corner. 

"He also pokes his fingers in the jam jars," Rory added darkly, dumping an entire box of fish fingers onto a baking pan.

Rose broke out into uncontrollable giggles at that one and the human Doctor scowled. "That's not- that's not even close to the same level as fish custard, Rose! Fish custard!"

"Don't knock it till you try it," said Rose.

 

********

 

Associative memory is like time-travel, in a way. With nothing more than a song, or perhaps a long-forgotten scent, it gains the power to suddenly transport you, taking you back to the last time you heard it, breathed it, and you're looking out of younger eyes. Reliving every emotion.

The Doctor doubted he would ever be able to eat fish fingers and custard again.

There was a good chance that from here on it would only trigger these images of Rose, sitting across the table, which he was currently storing up and hoarding away like a miserly old man. As they ate and talked he was finding it difficult to keep his eyes off her -relearning how she laughed, memorizing things, like the way she tucked her hair behind an ear in what was very much a nervous gesture. He wanted the memories only for the having, like a beloved old film, owned but too damaged to ever actually watch. Because the sound of her laughter would be tainted by remembered pain, all the color and life to her blurred by jealousy, knowing that the man seated next to her got all of her forever and everything that went with it, including the right to hold her hand even now.

It was that same jealous part of him that found some consolation in knowing that he'd left his mark on her too, if he went by the dark sorrow in her eyes which was completely at odds with her smiles. 

"...but then he told Rory, "I'm keeping the clothes," Amy was saying, nudging him with a laugh. He mustered up a faint smile, then let it fall as he brought his cup of now-cold tea to his lips. She kept trying to distract him, but as much as he didn't want to worry his friend any more than she already was, he just couldn't bring himself to act as if he were fine right now when he really, really wasn't. Anyway, Rose deserved better than what he'd given her in the past, planning and smiling and running around while he was secretly torn apart over their impending separation. What good had it ever done, his pretending not to care? It only hurt both of them more.

As Amy continued her story Rose caught his eyes from across the table. "I'm sorry," she said, so softly that she wasn't much more than mouthing the words. "But thank you."

"Anytime, Rose Tyler," he said, and then flinched a little. "Oh, I do hope the TARDIS didn't catch me saying that. She likes you so well that she might take the offer literally, and send me back here to help anytime you lose your keys or something."

She giggled as the spiky-haired Doctor's eyes widened, having overheard this. "No, no, no need for that," he said, catching everyone's attention. "All minor inconveniences and major troubles will be handled just fine by yours truly from here on out."

Rose turned disbelieving eyes on him. "Is that right? 'Cos I'm pretty sure it was your life that just needed saving, not mine. And I'm certainly not the one who's always losin' things."

He squinted back at her. "Okay, so we're both jeopardy friendly, I'll give you that. But surely someone with an eidetic memory like mine doesn't simply _misplace_ -"

"Our car. For two days."

"But that- that's because there was an emergency, Rose, of course all my focus was on-"

"It ended up being a real, actual earth squirrel. You also once lost my little brother."

He tugged on an earlobe. "Right."

Rose grinned fondly at him, dropping her chin onto a hand.

"Tired?" the Doctor asked her. They'd long since finished eating, and the light spilling into the flat had grown much dimmer. Outside, distant zeppelins blended into the greying sky until only their lights could be seen, flickering like low-hung stars.

She hummed. "Suppose so. Haven't really thought about it."

"Well, I can tell you that I'm knackered," announced the human Doctor, getting up from his chair. Indeed he looked it; his face was pale with exhaustion, his movements stiff and tired as he made his way into the kitchen, depositing some of the dishes on the countertop next to the sink. 

With both regret and relief that this part was over, the Doctor stood too. Minutes left, now. Just one last thing to take care of and then he would go. Off to mourn his loss; to nurse his wounds in private. 

"We'll take care of this, Doctor, you need to rest," Amy was saying, as she and Rory rapidly stacked up the table's remaining dishes. The Doctor couldn't help a smile at hearing her refer to his other self in this way. It was rather heartwarming, to see how she could take a new face in stride.

The tall man in pinstripes came out of the kitchen. "Can we have a quick word?" the Doctor asked him. "In your office, perhaps?"

Number Ten rubbed at an eye. "I was just about to suggest that." The TARDIS was parked in there.

"Thought you might."

The two entered the office, heading immediately for the privacy of the time-ship. The human Doctor ascended the stairs to the console. Chin tucked, he stared down at it, absently fingering one of the knobs. While he took this moment for a quiet farewell, the Doctor went to the opposite side of the console. He crouched, rummaging around underneath it.

After a bit the Doctor cleared his throat. When the other man looked up, he tossed him the soft bundle he held in his arms.

The part-human Doctor shook it out. "My coat," he said, lips forming a crooked half smile. "I love this coat." 

"I know," he said, as the Other slipped his arms into the sleeves. "Like I said before. Best part of the whole getup."

"Yeah." He brushed his hands down the front of the coat, smile fading.

"Well," said the Doctor a bit awkwardly, "it looks like everything is alright between the two of you. That's good."

Skinny pulled in a slow breath and released it before glancing up to meet his eyes. 

"Not so sure what you mean by 'good'. I lied to my wife and scared her half to death. And no matter what you say there's no denying the fact that if they'd wanted me dead there was no way you could've prevented it."

"I know," admitted the Doctor. "But they didn't. You're still here."

His other self stared hard at the controls, fiercely flicking a switch back and forth. "But why? Why didn't I die today? I was so sure."

Why was he so stuck on this? thought the Doctor, frustrated, jamming his hands in his pockets. He honestly could not remember ever being this difficult, this impossible to please. Yes, what had happened wasn't ideal, but it was _fine_ now. He was the _winner,_ and not for half-mad, stolen minutes like he'd once been but a real winner for the rest of his life, no tampering with fixed points necessary. 

"Why were you so sure?" he asked, after a slow, calming breath. "What did the Time Lords do to them?"

The Other shook his head. "Trust me, you don't want to know. It was terrible- so much so that, in the end, I couldn't even tell them about the stupid zeppelins. Instead I... I offered myself to them. I practically _told_ them to kill me."

He said the last part as if making weighty confession, and stole a look at the Doctor, wondering how he'd take it.

"That's why they let you go, then," concluded the Doctor. "You were truly sorry."

The other Time Lord scrunched his face up, shaking his head. "But... none of this makes any sense. I should have died!" Every line of his face, his posture, said that he meant this, believed it. Like he was _still_ hopeless.

"Why are we going round and round with this? Your attitude is what's confusing to me- it's almost like you're... _disappointed_ or something," the Doctor hissed. "You're alive, you idiot! By the looks of things you're also getting off nearly scot-free with Rose, and soon I'll be out of your lives forever. You should be bloody ecstatic right about now!"

His other self looked at him in horror. "You can't leave yet."

_"Sorry?"_

"The loop's not complete. How is Rose supposed to go back? All those visits in my past- plus another one again today!"

"Ah," said the Doctor, anger dying down in his sudden understanding. "Right. Actually, I have a theory about that. C'mon." He turned quickly, and led the way down the short, curved flight of stairs until they reached the jungle of connections and cables directly underneath the console. He stopped abruptly, looking straight on, and crossed his arms. "You see?" he told Pinstripes, who was looking this way and that, semi-confused. "All taken care of." 

Two black cables ran out from the tangle of other ones, and the human Doctor's eyes tracked along their length until he found where they connected- to a large, very familiar glass tank, glowing from the inside with a dim, pulsing gold. Instead of the small branch of TARDIS coral, it now contained a soft, roundish, oddly shaped organism, so large that it propped up the lid of the tank on one side.

His other self's jaw worked a few times, but nothing came out.

A smug grin crept across the Doctor's face. "Didn't have much else to do, waiting here for you lot, so I thought I'd try giving this little girl a jumpstart. All she needed was a bit of time with her old Mum. Just look at her, she's beautiful, already her growth is ahead of the curve." He gently patted the wall. "That's not so surprising, is it?" he added. "She's brilliant, the daughter of the most brilliant ship out there." 

He came up next to the taller man, whose profile was edged with the light from the baby ship. "It was you after all," he told him softly. "Two years, two and a half at most, and you'll be back amongst the stars. And, well, revisiting some memories, apparently."

He didn't answer. The Doctor put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you see? I finally get it; why the TARDIS was so insistent on my coming. For this, right here. Everything as it should be."

But his counterpart continued in his statue-like state. "C'mon," he nudged him impatiently, "let's go fetch Rose. I'll bet you can't wait to show her." He caught a glimpse of the other man's face and frowned. Mouth slack with shock, brow furrowed. One would think the tank held a slimy, tentacled Dalek instead of a newly-thriving infant time-ship.

"No," the Other murmured, finally turning round, tormented eyes on the Doctor. "Rose is going to time-travel in this. She's not with you."

"Right, because she's with you, knew you'd cotton on eventually-"

"No, no _no_ , she's _not_ with me and she's not with you and... it's all my fault. My fault because I didn't tell you everything, and now you've gone and done _this_ and made it all, oh, about a thousand times worse."

The Doctor stilled. "What are you talking about? What didn't you tell me?"

Closing his eyes, the human Doctor's hands went to his head. "How I found out the truth," he said dully, "that day she showed up in our flat. How I knew for certain that she wasn't my Rose." His voice was rough, and when he opened them, his eyes were red and glassy.

The Doctor nearly stopped breathing as it began to occur to him where this was going. "How?"

"I kissed her," he said, low. "I kissed her, and when we touched, her mind reached for mine almost instantly; unconsciously trying to reestablish what I identified right off as a severed link. Of course it would; it recognized me as her... her _lost bond-mate."_

His words hung heavy in the air between them for a moment. "It didn't work, of course, since my link her current self is still intact. But I think she nearly passed out from the shock of it. As did I." 

He looked up at the Doctor, pale, his lips thin and tight. "So yeah, funny as it might seem, I'm a bit upset that I didn't die today. Because if she doesn't go off with you, it means she'll be traveling _alone."_

The Doctor's mind was reeling. For once, he really, truly had no clue what to say. What to do.

"Three years," Pinstripes went on. "That's all I've had with her. What's the point? Why did Bad Wolf insist on my creation in the first place if I'm just to be with her a short time and then abandon her?" The set of his jaw changed, into something hard and determined. "I won't let that happen. You need to take her with you. I'll bring her into the TARDIS and you-"

"No," snapped the Doctor, slamming a hand against the wall. "I won't do it. Neither of us is going to make any more decisions for Rose Tyler, not ever again. Listen," he said, running a hand through his hair, "you have her now, don't you? You know you don't want to make my mistakes. If I've learned anything it's that you simply can't waste your time with her by worrying about tomorrow. For all you know, all of this could be _years_ off. Why can't you just enjoy it? Live. It will be a good two years until your TARDIS is ready, so you must have at least that long. Do you have any idea what I'd give for two more years-" 

He trailed off, and they stared at each other. "You're right," said the human Doctor, running a hand down his face. "I get that part, but I- I'm not worried about me. How can I be happy about spending the rest of my life, my forever, with Rose, when I _know_ she can't spend hers with me?"

His particular word choice was not lost on the Doctor. Rose, possibly condemned to years of future loneliness. The very thing he was once unwilling to suffer for the sake of briefly having her.

Rose should never feel the weight of that curse.

He was helpless to do a thing about it.

Until he realized that he wasn't. Neither of them were. 

They were just thick.

Electricity tingled in his spine, the rare sort that only came a day when he saved the world with a kettle and string, on a day when _everyone lives._ "Maybe," said the Doctor, as his hands came up and began waving about, "not with _you,_ you. That doesn't mean she's doomed to be alone."

The pinstriped Doctor stared at him.

"Grow your TARDIS," he went on, though he hardly yet knew what he was saying. "Teach Rose how to fly her. Show her the means I used to cross the void and... make sure she knows that, if anything happens, she can come back to me. If she wants." 

"She won't have to be alone," uttered the human Doctor, sounding dazed. "She can go back." He broke eye contact, staring into the air. Soon, the lines of his forehead began to smooth out and when his eyes flicked back to the Doctor they were bright and clear.

He looked years younger. "But not yet. I'm still here _now_ , you know." 

"Right."

"Might be for years."

"Hopefully."

"So for now she stays with me." He sniffed.

The Doctor refrained from rolling his eyes. "Well, of course she will; you're rubbish on your own. You'll need help, won't you, what with all those void holes on this side that need fixing."

The human Doctor nodded, solemn. "Right. I can take care of that." 

Then a grin crossed his face like a flash of light, wild and bright. "I'm going to have a TARDIS," he said, in a tone of amazement. "I need to tell Rose!"

As his double ran past him and skipped up the stairs, something inside the Doctor- something deep in his gut, so long withered and numb that he'd considered it dead- twitched and began stirring to life, tingling and burning. As sensation further returned, it was a very fortunate thing that the Doctor already had a hand on that railing, because now his own words-

_"She can come back to me"-_

-penetrated the fog of his mind, and buckled his knees. With two hands clutching the metal bar, he lowered himself onto a step, head spinning, and began repeating it over and over, first in his head and then out loud. The thing inside him grew, sending tendrils of heat to the tip of every extremity and he recognized it now, knew it by name. 

Hope. 

It was hope. Not the smoky wispy sort that was little more than wishing, but real and solid, the kind of hope he hadn't had since he'd literally chased after it full out, down a rubbish-strewn street. Eyes stinging with tears, the Doctor wrapped his arms around himself. He could hardly keep from laughing with the mad, impossible joy of it all. Somehow he knew, sure as he'd ever been of anything in his long, long life, that this wasn't the end for them. He might be leaving this place but he was running toward her all the same, just as he had once before, years and years ago. But this time would be different; no Dalek or any-bloody-thing else the universe might toss in his way would stop him. Every day, just a little bit closer, beginning always with the thrilling prospect of it possibly, possibly, being the one in which he might again sweep her into his arms.

He heard the clunk of footsteps above him and blinked rapidly, wiping his eyes. Then, on a sudden whim, he ran a hand over his chin just to be sure he hadn't actually regenerated; he felt so like an entirely different person than he had not quarter of an hour ago. After finding the distinctive feature still intact the Doctor pressed his lips together to compose himself and hopped to his feet. Even that seemed easier, as if he'd literally had a weight lifted off. 

Rose's feet appeared on the curving staircase first and the Doctor caught himself giving them an idiotic grin. He checked it just as the rest of her came into view, the others filing down the steps behind her. Oh, it was even harder to hide happiness than it was heartbreak, he decided. Or maybe it was because he'd just never had any practice.

"What's all this about a surprise?" Rose smiled at him, her voice just a tad too cheerful. "You know I'm always a little scared when you say that word-" her gaze went past him and she stopped, her put-on, teasing expression becoming one of wonder. "Is that what I think it is?"

She went over and placed her hand flat on the warm glass for a minute, then looked up into the smiling face of the man in the suit who had sidled up beside her. Watching the two of them beam at each other, then get caught up in an all-encompassing hug, the Doctor's chest felt tight in the best possible way. 

Amy and Rory came up, flanking him on either side. "So they'll have a TARDIS soon," said Rory in a quiet voice. "Nice job, Doctor."

Amy leaned her head against his shoulder. "You doing okay?"

"Pond. Yes, I really am."

 

********

 

The final moments arrived. The baby time-ship had been returned to her place in the flat, and the Ponds had bid Rose and her Doctor farewell with genuine sadness and regret on both sides. Soon after, his companions had boarded the TARDIS, understanding that the Doctor would prefer privacy to support for what came next.

Standing just outside the Police Box, he, Rose, and his other self gazed at each other, no one saying a word. Now that he was actually expected to go through with this, the hopes the Doctor had bolstered himself up with faltered a little. What if this really was the last time he saw her?

Rose's chin was already trembling, her eyes wet, and even without his own doubts that was nearly enough to do him in.

He crossed his arms, stomach clenching. "See," he said, voice shakier than he'd like it to be, "no running off. Easy peasy."

"No, it's not. But thank you. Thank you for everything," said Ten earnestly, reaching for the Doctor's hand and shaking it. Then he stepped aside, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The Doctor looked at Rose. She swiped the tears from her cheeks, and he stood very still as she came up close, smiling at him. "Love this," she said, and she tugged playfully at his bow-tie. "Makes you look very cute." 

He made a face, sappy grin vanishing. " _Cute,_ Rose Tyler?"

Rose laughed at him, albeit a bit watery. She slid her hands down to grip his lapels. "Yes. So don't....don't change it anytime soon, ya hear?"

"I won't," he said, focusing on her hands on his jacket, unable to look her in the eyes.

"Doctor," she whispered and his gaze cut up to find her biting her lip. "I'll probably never see you again, will I?" Her eyes welled again and a single tear escaped, sliding down her face to drip off her chin.

He wiped the moisture away with his thumb. "Now, Rose Tyler," he said, and slipped his arms around her waist. Hers encircled his neck and he held her tight, breathing her in, knowing she was doing the same. "You know better. Never say never ever." Easing back, he brushed a quick kiss across her forehead, and turned away. 

Pushing a door, he looked back over his shoulder to find the two hand in hand. Though she was openly weeping, Rose tried to smile at him. He swallowed, tight and painful with the boulder in his throat, and was so tempted to tell her those three little words he'd never had the chance to yet. 

But she knew.

And this was not yet his time.

"Goodbye," he said, praying with all his hearts that it wasn't for forever.

And then he went inside.

 

********

 

At the creak of the door Amy flew off the jumpseat, her features heavy with worry. He met her near the console and she threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Raggedy Man, I'm so sorry."

He nodded, allowing this for a minute before disentangling her. Without further word or pause, he started to circle the console, inputting the dematerialization sequence. Amy followed, at his elbow for every button pushed and dial clicked, her concerned eyes locked on his profile. 

Nearly finished, he paused, turning to her. "Amelia Pond, now don't make a fuss. I'm alright. Got you looking after me, don't I?"

But she only came closer, narrowed dark eyes intently studying him. It was easy to see that she thought he was lying. 

"Whatever, Doctor." 

He sighed and threw down the final lever. The ship whooshed, time rotor pulsing vertically, and the Doctor closed his eyes. He couldn't help thinking of the girl left behind, standing outside the doors. Surely she was watching as they faded away.

"Those coordinates better not be set for anywhere near my house," Amy's voice rang out, before he could sink into any sort of melancholy. "I have no intention of leaving you alone for awhile."

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Wouldn't dream of it."

She was back in his personal space. The TARDIS rumbled and shook, and the Doctor gently brushed Amy aside so he could go over and keep an eye on the monitor. 

"You know, I've started to believe that I'll never understand you," she said, sounding frustrated. "You just said goodbye to the love of your life, yet this is the most normal I've seen you act in weeks. It's making me nervous. What's the deal, Doctor? What are you really feeling? Just be honest. Please?"

Her eyes were wide and earnest, pleading. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before walking over to the captain's chair, patting the space beside him in invitation.

"What am I really feeling?" He dipped his head, looking into her eyes. "Okay. I'm sad, definitely. Of course I am. But also proud. I helped them, Amy. Other Me is safe; soon they'll be back to traveling again." 

He considered her for a moment, before deciding to share the rest. At least some of it. "But mostly, Pond, I feel.... hopeful. And mind you, I quite like hope. Always have. It's a good emotion."

They smiled at each other and were promptly thrown to the floor as the ship lurched sideways. Rory came stumbling in from a corridor, catching hold of the railing.

"Will the reentry be as bad as it was coming?" he yelled.

"No, no," called the Doctor, as the ship slowly steadied. "That was the worst of it. Look, no smoke this time!"

A blaring alarm sounded and the Doctor scrambled to his feet, dashing to the console. "Oh, no no no, that's not good," he muttered, staring into the monitor as he slipped a hand inside his jacket. Then yanked it out again. He stared at his empty palm, perplexed, and then patted his chest up and down.

"He didn't. He couldn't have. No..." Breathing fast and panicked, he ran his hands down the sides of his trousers. 

Amy watched him, relaxing. Finally he was aggrieved. Just as her expectations had told her he should be.

His face tipped up and he looked at his friends, cheeks flushed, with eyes wide as saucers.

 

"Has either of you seen my sonic screwdriver?"

 

*****

-FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to say a huge thank you to all of you loyal readers! Your kudos and comments have meant the world to me, and this has been an enormously fun endeavor. I hope you aren't quite tired of this particular storyline, because I'm not, so there's a sequel in store if you're interested! It's in the drafting stages now, and I hope to begin posting early in 2015. Stay tuned for "The Aftermath of Forever", all you Rose/Eleven fans!


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